Albus Potter and the Sceptre of the Fallen
by Eclipse89
Summary: From the moment Albus Severus Potter boards the Hogwarts Express, his life goes south really fast. While he struggled to find a meaning of his life, something evil is happening at Hogwarts again. Together with his cousin Rosie, he'll have to solve the mystery and save the day.
1. Chapter 1: Nightmare Express

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter 1: Nightmare Express

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Hogwarts Express was waiting by the platform nine and three quarters at the King's Cross, about to depart. Its red and black carriages, perfectly polished, shone in the light that seeped in through the skylights in the vaulted ceilings. Thick steam erupted from the engine's chimney time and again, as though the train was getting impatient.

The platform itself was packed with Hogwarts' students, eager to be reunited with their friends, teary eyes parents and anxious first years. Most of the children had boarded the train already and either chatted with their families through the windows or fought over free places in the compartments. With every passing minute, the platform was becoming slightly less crowded, and it was a clear sign it was a time to go.

Albus Severus Potter, the first year, glanced at the clock nervously. It was nearing eleven o'clock. He bit his lower lip and stared at his parents, Harry and Ginny Potter. With dismay and shame, he felt that his green eyes started to fill with tears. With a hem of his shirt, he wiped them off quickly, hoping no one noticed. After all, he had his eleventh birthday yesterday; he was much too old for behaving like a crybaby. What if his brother James saw him now? He's tease him for the rest of the year, just like he did when Albus's trousers accidentally exploded in the middle of the Diagon Alley.

Noticing his distress, his father smiled warmly and ruffled Albus's unruly, jet black hair. "Stop worrying, Al," he told him. "Everything will be fine, I promise. You'll have a wonderful time at Hogwarts, just like I did."

Albus arched his eyebrow, giving his father a doubtful look. "Do you mean all those times when Voldemort tried to kill you?"

His father made a foolish face, clearly stunned by the question. Then, he laughed sheepishly to relieve the tension. "Well, I hope your school life won't be _that_ eventful. There will be other adventures, safer ones, but also thrilling."

"Just stick to the quidditch, Al," Al's mother chimed in, fixing a slightly stern gaze at her younger son. She looked at the clock and tugged Al's shoulder. "Let's get you to the train." Hurriedly, she passed the cage with Draco the ferret to Al and had her husband take care of the heavy trunk with the school supplies. "Harry, help Al get it onboard the train."

Suddenly, Lily, the youngest child of the Potter family, broke in tears in the middle of the platform. Hefty tears streamed down her puffy cheeks as she dashed out to hug her brother. "We'll miss you!" she sobbed, squeezing Al's ribcage unbearably strongly before letting him go.

"I'll miss you too, Lily." Al smiled at his sister, a bit surprised by the abrupt and violent display of affection.

He gasped and scowled when his mum put her arms around him and gave him an even more crushing hug. Feeling smothered with boa-like love, he staggered back. The cage with his brand new pet swayed from side to side and Draco went on a rampage inside, hissing and making a fuss.

Next to Al, his cousin Victoire was in the middle of a very dramatic goodbye. She downright wailed, possessively clutching her boyfriend, Teddy Lupin. Her long, blonde hair billowed, moved by the unpleasant, chilly draft. Azure ribbons in her fair locks flailed like banners, perfectly matching the blue of the Ravenclaw House, she belonged to. She lifted her chin and fixed her longing gaze on her boyfriend and he returned it, staring at her sorrowfully.

Teddy Lupin, a lanky young man leaned down to press a tender kiss upon Victoire's lips. When he did so, his blonde hair instantly changed its colour to bubblegum blue; he was a metamorphmagus, just like his late mum.

Not so secretly, Al and his family hoped Teddy and Victoire to marry, the sooner the better. The Young Lupin was Harry Potter's godson and, practically, a part of the grand Weasley-Potter clan already, but marriage with Victoire would solidify it nicely. From the overly serious, mooning expressions on their faces, it looked like the wedding bells would ring soon. First, however, Victoire would have to finish the seventh, final year of Hogwarts.

"Oh, Teddy, I don't know how I'll endure a whole year without you," Victoire whispered loud enough for everyone around to hear once she broke the kiss.

Teddy cupped her cheek and smiled. "It's only a year." There was something roguishly ckeeky about the way he said that, but Victoire didn't catch on.

"Still . . ." she sighed.

A playful spark glimmered in Teddy's kind, brown eyes. "I have a surprise for you. You'll find out in the evening."

Victoire crossed her arms on her chest and cast a doubtful stare at him. "Will I like it?"

"You'll love it," Teddy promised, grinning.

Then, an ear piercing sound of the whistle For a fleeting moment, everyone went silent and Al could hear only the noise making by the magical engine of the Hogwarts Express which was ready to head for Scotland. Then, the pandemonium erupted. Parents started shouting to their children, making sure everything had been packed. Last minute gifts and hugs were exchanged through the open windows and the most dawdling students boarded the train in haste.

With her brown eyes widened, Al's mum cried out, "Quickly!"

His dad already grabbed the trunk and sprinted for the train. Clutching Draco's cage, Al ran after him, painfully aware that he was the last kid on the platform. One, last time, he looked over his shoulder at his mum and Lily who waved to him, with identical, anxious looks painting on their faces.

James Potter peeked at the platform, searching for his younger brother as he stood at the entrance to the carriage, already aboard the train. The draft played with his messy, black hair, making it look even more untidy. When he spotted his family members, his brown eyes lit and he waved his arm energetically. "Dad, here!"He reached out and grabbed Al's trunk when their dad tossed it to him.

Al found himself practically shoved into the train by his father, right after his luggage, the moment the clock struck eleven. Another whistle signal sounded, announcing the departure of the Hogwarts Express.

Al's dad reached out to squeeze his son's hand reassuringly and stepped back. He nodded with encouragement and optimism. "Remember what we talked about, son. I know you'll make me proud," he said, his last words jammed by the noise of the engine howling.

The train creaked and squeaked before it started moving, slowly rolling along the platform.

"Don't worry, I won't let you down!" Al cried out quickly and felt his heart sink when he saw his dad nod back, looking so proud and hopeful.

Suddenly, all the weight of who Al was hit him in a single moment, extinguishing his self-confidence like a strong gust of wind puts out a tiny flame. He was the son of _the_ Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world and, most probably, the greatest wizard alive. When Al's father was his age, he faced off against Lord Voldemort, became the youngest seeker in the history of quidditch and knocked out a mountain troll. Al gulped, sitting atop his luggage. _It's a lot to live up._

His dad shifted from the sight and vanished in the crowd of parents, much like mum and Lily. Before the carriage's door slammed shut on their own, he caught a glimpse of Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, several other Weasley relatives and Teddy Lupin who kept sending kisses toward the train. Hogwarts Express accelerated and whizzed past the platform, into a long, dark tunnel. When it emerged and the daylight streamed through the windows again, it was already on the outskirts of London, rushing north.

"Worried that you'll get sorted into Slytherin?"

Al looked over his shoulder at his older brother.

James grinned roguishly and leaned in, taunting Al. Something about his playful attitude reminded of uncle George. "Don't stress it, little brother. Every family has to have a black sheep."

"Knock it off," Al grumbled, puffing his cheeks and glaring at his brother.

Shrugging, James laughed, "Imagine our cousins' reaction if you get sorted into Slytherin! Everyone would be befuddled. " He patted Al on his shoulder and turned on his heel. "I've got to go. Louis and Roxanne are holding a seat for me. Try making some new friends." He winked. "With Slytherins."

Al felt his face heat up from the surge of anger. He balled his hands into his fists and hissed through clenched teeth, "James!" When he swung to hit his thirteen-year old brother, James danced away, humming, and left Al with his heavy trunk and Draco's cage.

The ferret stretched its little limbs lazily and sprawled on the cage's bottom. He fixed his suspiciously intelligent, dark eyes on Al and let out a series of squeaks that sounded like mocking cackle.

"Zip it, Draco," the boy hushed the pet and, hauling the trunk, set off in the search for a free seat.

However, all compartments were packed. A hoard of loud teenagers was making themselves comfortable in their seats, stacking their luggage on the shelves above their heads and catching up with friends. Al passed seven compartments with only Hufflepuffs inside until he stumbled upon one that was almost empty. From the corridor, he could see just one boy sitting by the window.

There were no house colours on his robes, so he must have been a first year, like Al. Resting his elbow on a tiny counter, he gazed out the window, observing the small, midlands villages whizz by. The sharp sunlight reflected in his very fair, blonde hair that seemed to be almost white. He wore it elegantly slicked back.

Al smiled to himself, glad that he managed to find a compartment with only one passenger inside. Encouraged, he slid the door open. "Oh," a sound of dismay escaped his throat when he saw multiple trunks and suitcases taking every inch of available space. The two shelves under the ceiling were full, the seats covered with the luggage so completely that Al couldn't see the worn off plush. There was even a trunk on the floor. _Other students must have left their luggage here and wandered off somewhere_. Judging by the number of trunks, six, he assumed all seats were taken.

"Sorry," Al said to the blond boy. "I was looking for a free seat."

Reluctantly, the fair-haired first year turned to stare at Al, revealing a pale, pointed face. He bore a disinterested, slightly condescending expression. With his pale, grey eyes he scanned him from the top of his head to his toes, frowning. "You may sit," he said stiffly.

Al gestured at all the luggage. "But the trunks . . ."

"They're all mine." The blond boy shrugged his shoulders and went back to staring out the window.

Al pushed his way in, digging one seat from under the boy's suitcases, and plopped down. He looked about at the compartment. "Wow, that's a lot of stuff," he commented as he stacked his own trunk above his travelling companion's. He reached out toward the boy, offering him a hand to shake. "I'm Al Potter"

The blond boy glared at Al's hand as though it was a poisonous snake. He straightened his back and looked up, completely ignoring the hand extended in a friendly gesture. "Scorpius Malfoy," he introduced himself and, before Al could even react, he added threateningly, "If you're going to laugh at my name, I'll hex you."

"I wasn't going to laugh at your name!" Al exclaimed defensively, showing his hands in a non-hostile sign.

Scorpius Malfoy gave him a long, probing look. "You better," he muttered. His unfriendly gaze shifted to Draco, Al's pet ferret. "Since when ferrets are allowed as pets in Hogwarts?"

Al flashed a nervous, contrived smile and placed the cage on his lap. "My dad got a permission from the headmistress. Do you want to pet him? He's a bit ferocious and ill-tempered, but he's okay, once he warms up to you," he said and, not waiting for Scorpius Malfoy to answer, he opened the cage and dragged Draco out.

The ferret put up a fight, wriggling in Al's grip, hissing and scratching his arms. When he dumped him on Scorpius's thighs, however, Draco calmed down. Curiously, he stared at the blond boy and sprawled atop his lap belly side up.

Al felt a sting of jealousy; the ferret never acted so amiably toward him. "Draco likes you," he noted quietly.

"Draco?" Scorpius stiffened up and something changed about him. He clenched his teeth so hard that Al could see a muscle in his jaw working.

"That's his name," Al explained, confused. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, now, when Scorpius was glaring at him coldly. "What's wrong?"

The Malfoy boy grabbed Draco and unceremoniously tossed him straight at Al's face. "Here, take this ferret the heck away from me, Potter," he murmured, crossing his arms on his chest. Snarling like a slighted werewolf, he reached for a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and started stuffing them in his mouth with vengeance.

Al flinched, increasingly baffled and disheartened. So much for making new friends on Hogwarts Express. Why is Malfoy acting so hateful, though? Did I say something? I tried to be polite and friendly . . .

Malfoy stopped devouring the beans for a moment to grace Al with another, reproachful glare. He rattled the box with wizarding candy and brought it closer to his chest protectively. "Stop gawking at me, Potter. I'm not giving you any."

"I don't want them anyway." Al shrugged his shoulders.

Suddenly, the compartment's door flung open loudly. Both boys flinched, startled, and looked at the newcomer.

Already dressed in the school robes, a first year girl scoured the compartment. Her red hair was long and fizzy, impossible to tame. Actually, her freckled, round face was a very familiar one. The girl's blue eyes lit up when she spotted Al who was nestled amidst Malfoy's luggage.

"Al! There you are!" she exclaimed cheerfully, beaming a heart-warming smile at the boy. "I looked for you everywhere on the train. I started to thing you didn't board Hogwarts Express at all!" When she shifted her gaze to the other occupant of the compartment, she frowned and narrowed her blue eyes. "Scorpius Malfoy."

Malfoy smirked. "Red hair and manners of a mountain troll? You must be a Weasley."

The girl glared back and rested her hands on her hips in an ultimate, intimidating pose. Proudly, she lifted her chin and cackled villainously."Right you are! I'm Rose Granger-Weasley and I'm going to whack your buttocks in every test until the day we graduate."

Al interjected, "Rosie's my cousin."

Malfoy rolled his eyes theatrically and muttered, "How amazing." His voice oozed with disdain. The cool, mocking demeanour of his cracked a little when he saw Rosie yank his trunks off the seats and indelicately throwing them onto the floor. He flinched and jumped to his feet. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Moving your stuff so that I could, sit, obviously," Rosie rebutted and reached for a black, leather suitcase to clear her seat.

Malfoy's thin, pointed face flushed from rage, changing its colour from pale to almost scarlet. Suddenly, he reached to the pocket of his trousers and whipped out his wand. "Touch one more thing and I'll curse you!" He lifted his want threateningly.

Rosie glanced at it and smirked malevolently. She made no move to take out her own wand, but looked very confident. "Bring it on, Malfoy!"

Malfoy swished his wand and was about to yell an incantation when Rosie dashed out at him, unarmed. She jumped onto one of the trunks and closed the distance between them in no time, surprising the blonde boy. He never had a chance to fire a hex at her. Rosie's closed fist collided with his face, and he stumbled back until he fell back into his seat. His want flew out of his hand and tumbled onto the floor and under the seats. Rosie smirked triumphantly, but it was too early to celebrate the victory. Malfoy attacked, pulling at her frizzy hair. She yelped and started whacking him with her fists again and kicking about.

Al Potter observed the scene that was unfolding before his eyes with disbelief. "That escalated quickly."

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 **Hi, guys! Thanks for reading.** **I wanted to write a Potter fanfiction for a while and here it is. Let me know if you enjoyed the first chapter and if you'd like to read more in your awesome reviews, please. How do you find Al and the other characters?  
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 **Review, please! It motivates me like nothing else.**


	2. Chapter 2: Gryffindor Courage

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Please, enjoy the chapter and don't forget to leave a comment!

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Chapter 2: Gryffindor Courage

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The Hogwarts Express left the rolling, English countryside and reached the picturesque Scottish Highlands. From their seats, students could admire scenic mountains, creeks and pristine forests until the sun set. The train covered the last stretch to the Hogsmeade Station in the dark. The weather changed dramatically from pleasantly mild to downright hostile. A hefty storm enveloped Hogwarts Express, with the repeated sounds of thunders stifling the noise of the engine. Thick raindrops were beating against the window. When the storm was at its peak, the train stopped.

"Thank goodness," Al muttered and rose from his seat.

The atmosphere in his compartment was just as bad as the weather outside. For some reason, Rosie decided to stay by Al's side. After several fistfights, she and Malfoy called a temporary truce which would probably last until the two of them recover from the previous brawls. Malfoy's pale, smug face was graced with twin black eyes that made him look like a malicious, pouting panda. Rosie bore a souvenir as well – a bruise on her forehead recently changed its shade from purple to green. As she head Malfoy, she found out he had a thicker skull than she had. Lumps of her red, frizzy hair lay here and there as though there was a shedding cat in the compartment. Even Al had a small cut on his lip which he got when he tried to separate Malfoy and his cousin.

Rosie sent Malfoy a parting glare and intercepted Al's sleeve. "Come on," she said to him. "I can't stand being anywhere near that smirking git!"

"Same, Granger-Weasley," Malfoy rebutted, with the ever annoying, mocking smile playing on his lips. "I don't want your filthy blood to rub off on me."

Having heard that, Rosie went ballistic. She hissed like a wild beast ready to bounce and got a hold of her wand. She gripped it so fiercely that her knuckles went white.

"Rosie." Al snatched her forearm and ushered her out of the compartment before she would curse Malfoy. "Let it go. He's not worth it."

"Of course. " Malfoy examined his fingernails casually. "After who am I to son of great Harry Potter? You must think you're so much better than the rest of the wizards and witches." Pure resentment shimmered in his cold, grey eyes and Al knew right away that he had made his first enemy.

Al took his trunk and Draco's cage. Eager to get away from Malfoy as soon as possible, he hauled his possessions into the corridor and nearly got squished by the wave of students who were anxious to get out of the train.

Rosie followed him. "I hope Dominique will get my luggage onto the platform," she mused aloud when they found themselves on the platform of the Hogsmeade Station.

The storm intensified. Strong gusts of wind played with students as though they were light as feathers. Al had difficulty standing in one spot and the continuous downpour was only making the matters worse. He stacked his belongings on the huge pile of luggage and turned around when he heard a low, weak voice that was barely audible over the thunders rolling.

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

Al smiled, seeing Hagrid waving to the new students. The Keeper of Keys and Grounds was ninety years old already, bent half from the age, but still spry. His long, snow white heard reached to his knees and was so bushy that it could accommodate a variety of creatures. And it probably did. In his hand, he held a lantern, but it went out.

Hagrid craned his neck and looked about as the first years gathered around him. He was searching for someone and Al found out who it was when the elderly Keeper of Keys pointed his finger straight at him. "Harry's boy," he laughed jovially and lounged forward to pat Al on his back. "C'mere, lad, it's yer big day!"

Al and the rest of the first years got led down a dark path leading to the lake, where a fleet of small, enchanted boats waited. Hurried by the cacophony of thunders, Hagrid ushered all children inside the vessels, packing five students in each. Al and Rosie climbed in one of the first boats and promptly discovered that a lot of rainwater lingered at the bottom, wetting their feet up to the ankles.

Right behind Al and Rosie, a tall, blond boy skipped into the boat, splashing the water. Next, a thin girl crawled inside, stealing frightened glances at the other first years from under her hood. Strands of raven black, soaked hair stuck out, winding over her chest like serpents.

The last one was a robust, well-fed boy. The dark school robes and a hood obscured his looks, but there was something about his big silhouette that rang a bell. He was twice the size of Al and much taller too, perhaps even taller than James. As he set his foot inside the boat, he cursed. "Bloody hell!" His voice was familiar too. "Those freaks must be mental to have us row through a lake during a storm!"

Al cocked his head as the rusty wheels slowly turned in his mind. _It can't be . . ."_ Zach" he coughed out, unsure.

The big boy sat down with an impact, making the boar rock dangerously. He shifted to look at whoever called his name. "Al!" he exclaimed cheerfully and slipped the hood off his head even though it still rained heavily. Wet, brown hair glued to his head, appearing flatter than usually. A wide grin flourished on his round face. "Fancy meeting you here."

Al still couldn't believe he was sitting in the boat with Zach. "What are you doing here? You, of all people . . ."

Zach shrugged. "Going to the freak school, with you."

Al could feel Rosie tugging his sleeve. When he looked at her, she pointed her chin at Zach, silently demanding an explanation.

"It's my cousin Zach. You know, from the muggle side of my family," Al told her.

"Oh." She nodded and stared at the large boy incredulously.

Al shifted his attention back to his other cousin, the unlikely wizard. "I didn't know you got admitted to Hogwarts. Uncle Dudley didn't tell my dad a thing."

Zach yawned and immediately scowled when the rain got into his mouth. "Well, it's because we thought there isn't anything to tell. Until today, I was going to go to Smelting; I even had the uniform bought and everything," he said indifferently. Compared to Al and Rosie, he seemed totally blasé about going to the most awesome school in the United Kingdom. "When I got the letter from Hogwarts, grandpa almost got a stroke. All my family flipped and my sister made such a scene I shiver even thinking about it. You know Emily."

"Unfortunately, I do." Al shuddered either from the cold or at the thought of his other cousin.

Zach put his arms around himself and rubbed his upper arms energetically in a futile attempt to warm himself up. "Anyway, we decided to act as if nothing happened, but dad woke up this morning and decided I'm going to the magic school. Just like that. Can you imagine? He had grandma take me shopping in this freaky place and we barely made it to King's Cross. And here I am, wet and surrounded by freaks." He looked at Rosie, the quiet girl in the hood and the tall, blond boy.

All three glared at them back, but Zach didn't look fazed by the scorned stares. Forcing the hooded girl to glue herself to the boat's side, he rested his legs on the bench next to her, taking up half of the space in the tiny vessel.

Al leaned toward him and whispered, "Zach, you should probably tone down the freak talk. I know Uncle Dudley is okay with it, but, here, people won't like it."

"Why?" Genuine confusion painted on Zach's ignorant face.

The surprise encounter with his cousin hogged so much of Al's attention that he barely noticed that the fleet of small boats, pushed by magic, sailed halfway through the lake already. The vessels kept rocking mercilessly, and, thanks to Zach's considerable weight, Al's boat was submerged a bit more than it should. Actually, the rogue waves kept splashing more and more water inside. Its level reached the kids' calves already and was rising slowly but surely.

The hooded girl let out a nervous whimper, "We're going to drown." She shivered, frantically clutching the edge of the boat.

Suddenly, somewhere on the right side a giant shape emerged from the lake for a second, before it vanished under the surface. Soon after that, a huge wave came speeding at the feeble fleet, as high as a two storey building.

"Watch out!" Al grabbed on Rosie's hand and squeezed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

The wave swept right in front of them, miraculously sparing them, but washing over another boat. The vessel capsized and five students fell into the freezing water, desperately paddling in their soaked, heavy robes.

Hagrid started paddling toward them. "Hang on!"

Zach kept gawking at the scene with his brown eyes bulging and his jaw slack. He shook his head in disbelief. "That was too close," he muttered as he straightened his back and craned his neck. Shielding his eyes from the rain with his open palm, he looked around. "Where's the bloody castle?"

Rosie squinted her eyes and pointed her finger at an undefined, dark shape right ahead of them. "There, I think. It's impossible to see a thing in this storm." She shrieked when the boat suddenly rocked. Glaring at the wriggling culprit, she yelled at him, "Zach, stop moving! You'll overturn the boat!"

She jinxed it. Barely the words rolled off her tongue, Zach's abrupt move made the boat violently tilt to the left. Al managed to grab onto the edge of his bench and somehow stay inside, but the hooded girl wasn't so lucky.

"Gah!" she yelped when her wet fingers slid off the slippery, soaked wood and she lost a hold. Sitting nearest to the left side, she simply fell over and landed in the dark waters of the lake. Her head vanished under the surface for a split moment, but the current made her float up. Spitting and frantically flailing her arms, she breathed out, "I can't swim!"

Al froze, gawking at the drowning girl.

Rosie immediately crawled to the opposite side of the boat and reached out, trying to take a hold of the girl. "Take my hand!" she cried, outshouting the howling of the wind. She leaned over as much as she could, but the swift current snatched the victim away, and Rosie's fingers closed on the empty air. Panicked, she shouted, "I can't reach her!" Without a second of hesitation, she started taking her shoes off, but Al grabbed her shoulder.

"Rosie." He stared at her, not wanting her to be swept away by the waves as well.

During this brief moment, the blond boy, the one who hadn't spoken even once, stood up out of the blue, rocking the boat more. Decisively, he kicked his shoes off and tore the school robe off his back in a swift move. Then, agilely like a dolphin, he dove into the treacherous waters of the lake. Everyone held their breaths when he wasn't emerging for a long while.

Suddenly, the boy swam up to the surface and took a sharp breath as he emerged. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but he was hauling along something that looked like a large, soaked sack. When the sack moved and coughed, Al knew it was the girl.

"He's got her," Rosie exhaled with relief and beckoned to the students in the water. "Guys! Over here!"

When they swam to the boat, Rosie reached out and grabbed the hooded girl. Clenching her teeth from effort, she dragged her up and helped her get onboard. Then, she helped the blond boy as well. Two survivors kept spitting water and coughing, exhausted, shaken, but alive.

In the midst of the commotion, the hood slipped of the saved girl's head, revealing her face for the first time. In the dim light of frequent lightning, her skin seemed eerily pale; perhaps, it was because she had gotten scared. Her black eyes were almond shaped and quite narrow, betraying her Asian heritage. Without saying a word, the girl hugged, the boy who had rescued her, and grabbed onto the bench. Hurriedly, she pulled her hood back on.

The blond guy cracked a light smile and wriggled himself between Al and Rosie. "The lake trip isn't as boring as my dad described it," he said, chuckling.

Zach and Rosie exchanged looks and let out a laughter too. They patted the blond boy on his shoulder, showing him appreciation, but it only made him feel awkward. He hunched his back, clearly abashed, and waved his hand in a dismissive and modest gesture.

As he was looking at the scene of joy, Al realized something. _I did nothing_. Suddenly, he felt nauseous when he glanced at the odd, hooded girl who would have drowned. _She was drowning, and I just sat there, useless. If not for the blond guy, she'd be dead. Without hesitation, he jumped in to save the day. I'm the son of Harry Potter, but he proved himself to be a hero, not me. Even Rosie helped; she wasn't scared at all._ The contents of Al's stomach rode up to his throat. In the last moment, he leant over the boat's edge and vomited everything he had eaten on the train. The taste in his mouth was awful, but it was nothing compared how crushed and ashamed of himself he felt. _What would dad think if he saw me today?_ Cramps in Al's stomach continued even after he emptied his belly off all stuff he could vomit. He lingered, bent over, and felt waves smash against the boat's sides and hit him in the face.

Rosie peeked at him. "Al," she called. "Are you alright there?"

"Yeah," Al lied and squeezed his eyes shut. "It's just the sea sickness."

He reached out for a handful of the lake water and washed his mouth ferociously. However, no matter how he rinsed and gargled, he couldn't get rid of the taste of shame. It felt as though it would stay forever, stuck to him like the scar on his dad's forehead.

The tiny boat rocked on the wild waves for some more time. It was probably just minutes, but it seemed like eternity. Then, Al and the others could hear a male voice carrying over the sound of the raging storm.

"First years!"

Al lifted his head and squinted his eyes. He could see a flicker of yellow light ahead of him, moving as though someone was waving. _It's a lantern_ , he realized. When he and the rest of the first years boarded the boats, Hagrid had given them lantern, but they got soaked right away and went out before they even left the shore.

"Over here!" the voice beckoned the small vessels to a small boat landing.

Al gasped when he recognized the voice. He stirred in the boat, making it rock dangerously and cried out the name of his godfather, "Neville!"

"Albus?" Neville shouted back; his voice didn't sound so distant anymore.

Finally, Al's boat made it to the landing and, with a strong jerk, it impacted the wooden stairs. Dead ahead, the huge Hogwarts castle loomed over the first years, ominously illuminated by the onslaught of lightning. Hurriedly, Al leapt out of the boat and, immediately, slipped on the wet, oaken stairs.

He would have smashed his nose against the steps but a pair of strong hands grabbed him and hauled him back his feet. _It was a close call_. Panting, Al looked up and smiled widely when he saw his godfather.

Neville Longbottom, now a respectable herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry grinned back, showing his bucked teeth. His short, dark blond hair were plastered flat against his head, wet, since the wind blew his hat away. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was an impressive man Al looked up to.

"Careful, kid!" he said to the boy, making sure Al wouldn't slip again. He looked at the stormy lake and scowled. "What a dreadful weather for the boat ride."

Al nodded eagerly. "Yeah, one of us almost drowned on our way here. Is child endangerment normal at Hogwarts?" he asked with a sigh.

"Only for the Potters." Neville winked. "Ready for your first year at Hogwarts, Al?"

"Err," Al muttered and bit his lower lip. He stole a glance at Rosie and the brave, blond boy who had fished the hooded girl out of the take. Again, he felt the foul taste of what was left from his snacks and shame in his mouth. Reluctantly, he raised his head to stare his godfather in the eye. "I'm not sure if I'm cut out for it."

"Of course you are. You're a Potter." Neville placed his big hand on Al's shoulder and squeezed it with his calloused fingers. He leant over the boy and gasped as though some startling realization hit him. "Gosh, you look just like your dad when he was your age, minus the glasses. I have a feeling that you'll be getting in a lot of trouble, exactly like your old man."

"Neville . . . " Al looked away, wriggling his fingers. _Dad would never leave a girl to drown_.

Neville puffed his chest. "It's Professor Longbottom now, Albus, at least in front of the other students and teachers," he reminded his godson. "Don't worry, though. We'll have plenty time to chat, since I'll be the head of your house."

Al flinched. "You're head of Gryffindor."

His godfather nodded. "Your future house. I bet your parents and grandparents will be bloody proud to hear that you made to Gryffindor." He didn't notice the grimace of uneasiness on Al's face. Drawn by the cries of student, he looked over his godson's head at the fleet of the boats arriving at the landing. "I've got to get the rest of the kids," he said to Al and left him to tend to his duties.

It took a while until Neville managed to gather all the first years. Miraculously, everyone survived the life-threatening trip across the Black Lake, even the students that got swept off by a monstrous wave. It turned out that Hagrid, with help of the Giant Squid, managed to fish them out of the water. Once Neville did a hasty headcount, he ushered the students up a steep path leading to the castle.

Rosie wanted to take a moment to admire the castle before the Sorting Ceremony, but Neville had the students run at full speed to make up for the time wasted at the lake. Soaked to the bone and exhausted, the students dashed up the stairs and got pushed inside the castle, into a small room next to the main entrance. The sounds of heated conversation and laughter seeped through a door; it sounded like there was a beehive right outside the portal. Big torches both illuminated the chamber and provided much needed warmth. Before Al could relish it and appreciate that no rain was pouring on his head, Neville rounded the students up.

Al's godfather produced a piece of parchment from under his robes and cleared his throat. "Listen up kids! My name is Professor Longbottom and I'm the head of Gryffindor House. In a flash, you're going to join your house, which will be your family until you graduate. But, before that, you've got to partake in the Sorting Ceremony. It will go like this: I call your name, you go through this door." He pointed his finger at the door behind his back. "Then, you stroll to the Sorting Hat, put it on your head and run to your house. Any questions? No? Let's make this quick, everyone."

Al gulped.

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Thanks for reading, cupcakes! It would be awesome if you'd leave a review and let me know what you think. Even a one-line comments will be greatly appreciated.

If there's a demand for this story, I'll be making weekly updates. The next one is on Friday!

Have an amazing weekend! (and **review** )


	3. Chapter 3: Sorted This Way

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **I'd like to thank Night elf and Silbernacht for reviewing the first chapters of my story. You guys gave me a boost to write and I adore you! (don't stop reviewing, my cupcakes)**

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Chapter 3: Sorted This Way

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Al felt his knees buckle when Neville creaked the door to the Great Hall open. The noise hit the first years like a tidal wave, making them even more nervous. Adding to his confusion, the Sorting Hat broke into a song, increasing the tension and prolonging the torture. Rosie clutched Al's shoulder, digging her fingers into his flesh so forcefully that it brought tears to his eyes.

Neville straightened the roll of parchment, he held in his hand, and started calling students alphabetically. "Anderson, Kylie."

A petite girl looked at the other first years with fear in her slanted eyes and had to be pushed out into the Great Hall by Neville. Terrified, she trailed across the chamber to a small, rickety stool and faced a robust, oddly masculine witch who pushed the ancient, patched Sorting Hat onto her head. It was so big that it covered Kylie down to her pointy chin.

The Sorting hat moved as though it was alive until it exclaimed. "Ravenclaw!"

Relieved, Kylie Anderson tore the hat off her head and broke into run. When she reached Ravenclaw's table and took her seat, she collapsed face-first into chocolate pudding, much to the Slytherins' enjoyment.

After poor Kylie, four more first years got sorted into Ravenclaw. The table of the House of blue and brown cheered so loudly that they sounded like a stampede of flat-foot pheasants.

"Dursley, Zachary."

Al craned his neck, searching for his muggleborn cousin in the crowd of first years. Surprisingly enough, Zach didn't seem nervous at all. He puffed his chest and spread his arms apart to make himself look muscular, and strutted forth with his chin raised high. When the masculine witch shoved the Sorting Hat on his head, he frowned and covered his nose, muttering something under his breath.

The hat of Godric Gryffindor was silent and motionless for a longer while. Eventually, it passed a doubtful judgement. "Hufflepuff?"

After Edwards, Herbert and Ethelston, Nancy got put in their houses, Neville read, "Fawley, Arthur."

A tall, blond boy stepped forward and walked up to the Sorting Hat confidently. He was the one who rode in the same boat as Al and saved the drowning girl. When he was sitting on a stool he had a faint smile glued to his lips, but he still fidgeted a little. Barely the hat approached his golden locks, it yelled out, "Gryffindor!"

While Neville kept reading the names of the first years, Rosie's grip on Al's shoulder intensified. He could feel her shiver as she clung onto him.

"I hope I won't end up in Ravenclaw," she whispered faintly.

Al turned his head to stare at her; it wasn't like Rosie to sound to weak. "What?"

Rosie licked her lips and stole an anxious glance at the Sorting Hat. "My mum told me that the Sorting Hat considered putting her in Ravenclaw. It's not bad, but I want to be in Gryffindor, with you."

Al exhaled, feeling a bit of relief. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was scared of being put in a wrong house. As Rosie stared at him with utter terror in her blue eyes, he was obliged to lift her spirits. He remembered what his dad had told him at King's Cross and repeated it back to his cousin. "The hat sometimes takes your wishes into consideration."

"Granger-Weasley, Rose."

Rosie sucked in a breath and stared at the door leading to the Great Hall with dread.

"Good luck, Rosie," Al said and gave her a little push.

She stumbled forward, but then, she clenched her fists and regained her composure. "See you in Gryffindor, Al," she said to him before she stalked toward the stool. Her pace was quick and confident. The look of steel hard determination pained on her freckled face as she sat down on the three-legged stool and practically ripped the Sorting Hat out of the robust witch's hands. She put it on and squeezed her eyes shut.

The Sorting Hat hesitated for a moment, before it cried out loudly, "Gryffindor!"

Al smiled, feeling happy for Rosie and clapped, much like half of the first years. Not everyone was so nice, though.

"Gryffindor, the house of the morons," a familiar voice said from right behind Al; it oozed with disdain and mockery.

Al turned around, his dark eyebrows knit together in a grimace of anger. "Shut your trap, Malfoy," he hissed through the clenched teeth. "Gryffindor is a house of brave, good people, unlike Slytherin. Everyone knows no decent witch or wizard came out of Slytherin, only a bunch of evil doers."

Malfoy and some of the kids in the group of first years frowned at Al's words. The blond boy crossed the arms on his chest and snarled, a look of superiority plastered onto his pale face. "At least, we don't have idiots and mudbloods in Slytherin."

Now it was the time for the half-blood children to glare at Malfoy while the purebloods gloated. Some of the students looked utterly confused, and Al guessed they had to be the muggleborns. Al and Malfoy closed the distance between them, curling their hands into fists and locking their gazes challengingly.

"That's enough, you two!" Neville exclaimed sternly and pointed his finger at Malfoy. "Mr Malfoy, you're up." He leant forward, grabbing a hold of the blond boy's robe and threw him out of the small room into the Great Hall.

Malfoy stumbled, but, much to Al's disappointment, regained his balance. He straightened his robes, gracing Neville with his family's trademark glare of wounded pride and strutted toward the three-legged stool. His gray eyes kept staring at Al's maliciously when the ancient artefact brushed against the top of his fair head. It exclaimed decisively, "Slytherin!"

As Neville continued his list, the crowd of the first years in the room became thinner until only a dozen of students remained out of about forty. When Palmer, Friedwulfa got called, Al felt his body freeze up and cold shivers shake his limbs. Maybe it was because he was still soaking wet and on a verge of catching pneumonia or it was simply the paralyzing fear. By the time Perry, Jason got sorted into Hufflepuff, Al felt like dropping dead right here and now.

Then, his turn came.

Neville nodded to him and said aloud, "Potter, Albus." With a warm, welcoming gesture, he guided Al into the Great Hall and released him.

Al's legs were like stiff twigs when he slowly made his way toward the stool. He barely made any progress, because his knees behaved as though someone had jinxed them and rendered immobile. As soon as he saw the entire population of Hogwarts stare at him, he lowered his head and fixed his gaze on the tips of his shoes.

The tense atmosphere of anticipation filled the Great Hall. Both students and teachers paused their cheerful conversations and stared at Al in silence, holding their breaths. As the young Potter glanced toward the Gryffindor table, he saw his brother James and a herd of their cousins keeping their fingers crossed. They looked just as nervous as he felt.

He wished the way to the Sorting Hat was longer, but he made it eventually and had to sit on it. Gripping the edge of the three-legged stool, Al squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his mind so that only a solitary thought remained. _Gryffindor, Gryffindor_ , he kept repeating in his mind as he waited for the masculine witch to place the Sorting Hat on his head. _I want to go to Gryffindor_.

Finally, he felt the old, smelly hat touch his hair. He prepared to argue his case with the magical artefact, to convince it he belonged in Gryffindor.

"Slytherin!"

Al's eyes snapped open, his jaw went slack. "What?" he gasped, startled. _Slytherin? I must have heard wrong. It can't be it . . ._ He felt as though the whole world around him was shifting and warping. Dazed, he looked about, painfully conscious that everyone's eyes were on him.

Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws began whispering among each other, while the Slytherins started giggling somewhat uncomfortably. When Al stared at the Gryffindor table, his heart sank. His brother and Rosie went pale like ghosts and just gawked at him blankly, looking just as stunned as he was. The rest of the Weasley clan had expressions of horror and surprise frozen on their freckled faces.

"Mr Potter, it's time to get off the stool."

Al looked up and saw the robust, masculine witch take the Sorting Hat off his head. With just one hand, she hauled him up. When he wasn't moving, she urged him, "Go and join your housemates." As Al started walking toward the table, where his brother and cousins were, she snatched his shoulder and guided him the opposite way. "Slytherin's table is the other way, child."

Like a magically animated puppet, Al staggered toward the Slytherins. It felt like his most dreaded nightmare was coming to life. He steered toward a free stop on the long bench and plopped there, supporting himself on the elbows which he put on the table. Even now, he found it hard to believe that he actually got sorted into Slytherin. _Why nor Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? Why it had to be Slytherin, of all the houses?_

Al was so busy experiencing inner torment that he didn't notice the boy sitting right next to him.

Malfoy smirked, looking like a disgustingly self-satisfied lizard. "Welcome to the house of evil doers, Potter," he chuckled, his pale, grey eyes glimmering with amusement as though Christmas came early this year. "What's wrong? No smart remarks?"

Al turned his sullen face toward him, but, before he was able to think of a comeback, someone crashed between him and his brand new archenemy. An older girl literally sprang onto the bench, separating the two first year boys. She sat cross-legged and fixed her suspiciously gleeful stare on Al. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head, she had glasses in thick, purple rims and a prefect badge pinned to the front of her robe. "Wonderful!" she clapped her hands and, leaping on Al like a boa snake, she hugged him.

"Gah!" he yelped, startled as she kept crushing his ribs.

She pulled back and patted him on the head as though he was a puppy. "We have our own Potter! How exciting is this, Quin?" She turned to an older, gloomy boy who was sitting across the table and watching her hijinks with a glare of disapproval. "Hey, with a Potter in our house, we can finally rebrand Slytherin! How about that, our beacon of hope? Are you ready to become a poster boy for the image revolution?" She pinched Albus's cheeks.

The sombre boy rolled his eyes. "Give him a rest, Grace. He's miserable enough without you hassling him," he said quietly, in a flat, deadpan voice.

Grace, however, did the opposite. She pulled Al toward her and started messing with his hair, combing it with her fingers into a mohawk, then slicking it back and ruffling it again.

Al bent back and covered his head with his hands protectively. "Can you stop doing that?"

The gloomy boy chuckled darkly, sucking all joy from the air like a dementor. "Better get used to her. Grace will make your life a hell until she graduates." He pointed his finger at his chest. "I'm Quintinus Travers, by the way, the Head Boy. If you have any questions, I don't care."

Grace broke out in a laughter so loud that even the Gryffindors craned their necks to see who was the source of the obnoxious howling. She leant over the table, dipping the hem of her robes in sauce and patted Quintinus on his shoulder energetically. "Quin just acts tough, because he thinks the silent, cold guy act will make him lucky with the girls. Doesn't work though," she told Al. "I really need to work on his attitude. It's quite a setback for the grand rebranding plan."

Suddenly, stern, female voice boomed across the Great Hall. "Grace Baxter! Be so kind and try to be silent for a few minutes."

Grace froze, and so did Al. Spooked, he gawked at the elevation where the teacher's table was. Behind the podium, stood an elderly, rigid looking witch and glared at the Slytherins. For some reason, her scarlet robes made Al think of blood of enemies. Posh as they were, they contrasted with her thin and long, white hair which she wore swung over her shoulders like a shawl.

"That's Septima Vector, the Headmistress," Grace informed the first years and flinched when the headmistress narrowed her eyes. "Oops." The blabbermouth pressed both her hands to her mouth and manually forced herself to keep silent.

Al gulped. Because of his personal tragedy and Grace's odd banter, he got distracted, missing the rest of the Sorting Ceremony. When the headmistress shifted her furious gaze from Grace to him, he trembled like a cowardly mouse.

Professor Vector looked away and forced a stiff substitute of a smile onto her thin lips. Her facial muscles weren't used to this kind of activity. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said, gesturing at the table behind her. "This year, we have a change. Professor Jones, who taught the Defence Against the Dark Arts retired and will be replaced by Professor Edward Lupin. Give him a warm welcome." She glared at the students, scaring the applause out of them.

With his green eyes wide opened, Al stared at the staff table, not believing what he was seeing. There he was, their own Teddy Lupin, all dressed up in formal robes. When the headmistress announced him, he stood up and waved to the students.

"Teddy!" Al whispered in excitement; this was the first good thing that happened to him since he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Grace readjusted her glasses and surveyed the new teacher. "He looks hip. The blue hair really suits his completion and brings out the shape of his nose," she commented and looked at Al. "Do you know the guy, Potter?"

Al nodded, allowing himself to grin sheepishly. "Teddy's my dad's godson. He's like family to me."

Malfoy cleared his throat, getting the attention of the first years and the prefects. "My grandfather told me old Lupin was a werewolf. I bet he's one too." He scoffed as if he had eaten a lemon whole. "This school is going down the drain if they permit someone with werewolf blood to teach."

"Zip it, blondie," Grace snapped. She grabbed a rib from the platter in front of her and waved it threateningly as though it was a want. "It's because of people with your high-and-mighty attitude folks think of Slytherin badly. Tone down your snot talk or we'll all end up with the label of the evil guys forever. Do you enjoy being a victim of this house's lousy reputation? I don't!" Suddenly, she sobbed and broke in tears.

"Grace, I think your ribs are salty enough without you crying on them," Quin noted dryly.

Professor Vector slapped her open palm into the pulpit, getting the attention of the students. "Professor Lupin may be young, but he's a teacher. Don't you forget that!" She looked at Victoire Weasley who sat at Ravenclaw table. "Also, new rules will be implemented this year. Students are not permitted to wander the school grounds. If any of you sets a foot outside the castle, you're getting the most mortifying detention imaginable until the end of the school year."

"Harsh," Grace muttered, knitting her eyebrows. She looked unsettlingly solemn.

All the students fell silent, staring at each other in disbelief and confusion.

"Professor? What about the classes?" someone from Ravenclaw asked.

"Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures will be conducted in the courtyards. Students will be required to wait inside the castle for a teacher to escort them," Professor Vector answered, before she delivered another blow. "Trips to Hogsmeade are cancelled."

A collective gasp of terror spread across the Great Hall, followed by disgruntled mutters. Everyone from the third year up let out a series of whines, shocked mumbles and hefty curses.

"Oh, come on!" Grace slammed the ribs, she was holding in her hand, against the table. The plates clattered.

Professor Vector straightened her back and leaned on the podium, preparing to deal a final blow. "Also, quidditch is suspended until further notice."

For a brief moment that lasted a single second, everyone went silent, gawking at her, as though they believed she was joking. However, Professor Vector didn't look like jester. When the students realized she was being dead serious, a wave of heated protests washed over the Great Hall.

At the Slytherin table, something finally managed to tick Quin off. The Head Boy uttered a miserable, "What?"

"No! Anything but that!" someone from the Gryffindor table yelled at the top of their lungs. Al could have sworn it was James. As it turned out, he was right.

"Calm yourself, Mr Potter. My word is final," Professor Vector spoke in a voice that allowed no defiance. She had to slam her fist against the podium several times until the students stopped bickering and protesting against the appalling, new rules. "Enjoy the feast and study hard this year."

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 **Have you liked the chapter? Review! I'm currently working on the next chapter and, if you give me some inspiration through your comments, I might post it this weekend. ;-)**


	4. Chapter 4: The Evil Lair

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **First of all, I'd like to thank three awesome people for showing their support and getting me feedback. Special hugs to Son of Whitebeard, Silbernacht and Nyght elf. If not for you guys, this chapter wouldn't happen at least for another week. You gave me energy to write.**

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Chapter 4: The Evil Lair

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From what Al's dad had told him, the Start-of-Term Feast was supposed to be a joyful, vibrant event. How different was the reality from the tales. If being surrounded by the Slytherins wasn't enough, he was being crushed by the thick, funeral atmosphere. There was no song, no one was laughing or even pretending they had fun. The students mostly jabbed the food on their plates with cutlery, sitting in suffocating silence. Even Malfoy gave up on mocking Al, busy torturing his pork chops.

"I can't believe it! We're prisoners in this castle, prisoners!" Grace lamented, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Dramatically, she threw her arms up and grabbed her head. "What gives Vector the right to take quidditch away?"

One of the first year girls stirred on the bench. Al recalled her name was Nancy Ethelston. "Maybe someone died," she suggested.

"And how is it an excuse to cancel quidditch?" Quin muttered, looking ahead with blank, absent gaze of a man who lost the meaning of life.

Somehow, bonding over the loss of quidditch and the newly implemented, draconic restriction made the atmosphere at the Slytherin table perhaps not cheerful, but less depressing. Al kept on the sidelines, pecking at his dinner and mostly listening to the others. The first years started unravelling. Unfortunately, not quite in the right direction.

Malfoy straightened his back proudly, happy that he found himself in the centre of attention. His trademark, smug smirk was glued to his lips as he boasted, "Have I mentioned that my family took the first place on Wizarding Britain's Richest, according to Daily Prophet?" He readjusted his robes, still damp from the boat ride across the lake, and slicked his blond hair to the side. "Since old Baroness Rowle croaked last month, the Malfoys have no competition."

"You're so lucky, Scorpius," said Friedwulfa Palmer, a chubby girl with chocolate complexion. She fixed her googly eyes on Malfoy.

Barnaby Selwyn, a boy with squirrel teeth sighed quietly, staring at Malfoy with an obviously forced smile. The two other first year Slytherin boys, Higgs and Runcorn, also had a glimmer of admiration in their eyes, mixed with sprouting envy. Something told Al that they had reluctantly accepted their position as Malfoy's lackeys.

"Well, it's nothing much really, but my grandfather had Howling Gnomes perform during my birthday party, just for me," Malfoy continued to gloat.

Al rolled his eyes, thinking his bragging was not only in bad taste, but also incredibly annoying. Granted, Howling Gnomes were the most awesome band ever and he'd want to see them live really badly, but . . . He clenched his fists under the table and stubbornly stared at his dessert. The pink, watermelon jelly wobbled under his glare and tried to crawl away, but Al pinned it down with his fork.

Suddenly, a much needed distraction arrived. When two ghosts appeared out of the solid wall and glided toward the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, Friedwulfa Palmer wrinkled her forehead and asked the Head Girl, "Grace, don't we have a resident ghost?" She glanced at Nancy Ethelston.

"The Bloody Baron," Nancy specified.

Thoughtfully, Grace scratched her head, making the messy bun loll from side to side. "Oh, I haven't seen him in a while. He haunted about all the time when I was in my first year, but then, he kind of stopped. I wonder if he went on vacation or something."

"What a bummer," Higgs muttered and the rest of the first years nodded in agreement.

Professor Vector rose from her seat at the staff's table and strode to the podium. She clapped, and the watermelon jelly vanished from right under Al's nose, together with the rest of the food. A collective groan of disappointment spread through the Great Hall, but got silenced by Professor Vector slamming her palm against the podium; she seemed to do that a lot. "I believe that's enough celebration for tonight as you wouldn't want to sleep during your classes tomorrow. Off to your dormitories, everyone," she said and stared at specific students, including Victoire Weasley, Grace and Quin. "Prefects, please guide the first years." Vector clapped once and nearly all the students jumped to their feet.

Following their lead, Al stood up as well, feeling spooked by the strict headmistress. He saw Grace round the small flock of first years up, fussing like a mother hen. Then, he felt someone grab the back of his robe and yank his shoulder forcefully. He yelped, caught off guard, as he got spun around.

"Al!" Rosie Weasley shrieked into his face, making him start.

Next to her, stood James. Both stared at with worry painting on their faces. It was weird and distressing to see his brother concern instead of perpetually grinning and joking.

"You're in Slytherin," James said quietly; it sounded like an accusation.

Rose glared at the older Potter and elbowed him in his side before turning to Al. "Look, Al, it's not the end of the world," she told him, her voice cracked as though she was about to burst into tears. "It's perfectly fine. We can still be friends, we'll see each other in classes and the library . . . " She let out a strangled sob and whirled around so that Al wouldn't see her cry.

"I'm sorry I teased you," James blurted out suddenly. He reached under his glasses and, Al could have sworn, wiped a tear with the hem of his sleeve. "The thing is . . . The thing is, I never thought you'd actually end up in Slytherin. I was sure you'll be in Gryffindor with me, and Rosie, and Roxie, and Fred-"

"James, stop it," Al cut him off. "Seriously, you're not making me feel any better about this. Look, I get it, you're sorry." He gazed away, unable to stare his brother in the eye. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry too. I'm such a disappointment to everyone."

James let out a whistling breath and propped his hands on his hips. When he was doing that, he reminded Al a lot of their mother. Every time one of her children was up to some mischief, she struck that pose and started the tirade. James must have notice his brother flinch, for he let his arms dangle by his sides non-threateningly. "Dad will probably take it better than mum. She'll flip once she finds out. If I were you, I'd reconsider going home for Christmas."

"James Potter!" Rosie elbowed him again, striking his kidney.

In the middle of commotion, no one noticed Quin Travers creep on them soundlessly. He just suddenly found himself wedged between two Potters, eying both of them sternly. Quin was barely taller than Al, but his looming presence masked his modest height. "I'd hate to interrupt the heart wrenching family drama, but I need to haul all first years to the dungeons." His heavy hand fell on Al's shoulder and he locked the grip on. "That includes you too, Potter."

Rosie sighed lightly, staring at Al as though he were about to be dragged away to Azkaban. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."

James waved goodbye and winked at his younger brother. "Al, just don't become evil!"

Al felt his cheeks heat up. "I won't get evil!"

"Are you sure? There must be a reason you got sorted into Slytherin," James joked. "Perhaps you've been planning on enslaving the wizarding world all along and I had no clue about it."

"Not all Slytherins are wicked," Al rebutted, losing his confidence as his anger died down a bit. "My namesake wasn't. Dad told me Severus Snape was the bravest man he'd ever met, and a really good wizard."

James shrugged his shoulders. "One of them wasn't evil," he admitted. "You know who else was in Slytherin? Lord Voldemort. Also, all the Death Eaters and the vast majority of dark wizards."

Immediately, every Slytherin, who was still at the table, froze and turn their heads toward James. They glared daggers at him and shifted their hateful stare to Al. In this moment, the young Potter realized that he has just become the most despised person in his house. _Good job, James. That was exactly what I needed._

Quin chuckled humourlessly as he hauled Al away. "Come on, the head of our evil house must be getting impatient in Slytherin's evil den."

The prefects ushered the first years out of the Great Hall and guided them down unbelievably long corridors. Portraits on the walls greeted them with smiles and waved to them. Sculptures and empty suits of armour bowed politely. At one point, the Slytherins separated from the rest of the students and headed downward, toward a poorly lit dungeon corridor. They went down a broad staircase until they faced a dead end, a solid, stone wall.

Quin turned to the first years and said. "Memorize the way to the Common Room. I don't want you walking into broom closets instead." He patted the wall with his hand, smirking. "The password is 'decapitation.'"

As he said the word, the stones shifted aside, revealing a crevice. It widened and formed an arched doorway, causing some of the first years to gasp. Sickeningly greenish, eerie light seeped from inside, illuminating the corridor they stood in.

Quin crossed his arms on his chest and told them, "Remember, the password changes every fortnight. Never bring students from other houses here, never reveal the password. Inside!" He grabbed Selwyn and pushed him into the common room. Then, in a hushed voice, he said, "And good luck. You'll need it."

Waddling at the end of the small group, Al entered the lair of Slytherins, curiously looking around. The whole place looked like a villain's hideout. Austere, stone walls were decorated with tapestries featuring adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins; Al saw plenty of severed limbs and heads. Greenish lamps cast their cold light upon the common room, making it seem even less welcoming. There was no windows, but the dungeon extended partway under the lake, so there was view at its bottom through the glass ceiling. The chamber had lots of low backed, black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas and chair. Dark wood cupboard were decorated with skulls. The common room looked posh and a bit pretentious, what didn't surprise Al. _The place screams: evil_ , he thought.

The first years gawked about, so taken with the creepy atmosphere of their new home, that they didn't notice a middle-aged witch sprawled on the armchair. She cleared her throat and everyone shifted their attention to her, mainly to the deep cleavage of her turquoise robe. Relaxed like a cat she curled a strand of her hair on her finger, observing the first years in silence. There was something resembling a pug in her face. The corners of her lips appeared to be fixed downwards in a grimace of discontent.

"Good evening, young Slytherins. My name is Professor Pansy Parkinson and I will be supervising your life in Hogwarts." She wasn't even looking at her students. Instead, she surveyed her long, carefully manicured fingernails. "This year's goal is to win the House Cup, at any cost. We can't afford these smug Gryffindors steal our victory again, so I expect you to work your asses off to gain points. Is that clear, brats?" Professor Parkinson raised her chin to glare at the first years.

"Yes, ma'am!" Nancy Ethelston squeaked fearfully.

"No sneaking around after curfew, no rule breaking, no improper behaviour," Professor Parkinson continued in a flat, disinterested voice that sounded as though she didn't want to even be here. Suddenly she spotted something that caught her interest and she rose from the armchair. Roughly shoving Higgs and Palmer out of her way, she towered over Al. "What's this? Potter's spawn in my house? That's a rarity," she muttered and a malevolent smirk flourished on her scowling lips. "Step out of line, Potter, and I won't show you mercy."

Her threat made Malfoy let out an amused snort.

Professor Parkinson stiffened and whirled on her heal, searching for the one who made the noise. When her eyes rested on Malfoy, she stumbled back and gasped as if she had seen a ghost. Then, the look of surprise vanished from her pug-like face, replaced something far more terrifying, an unreadable expression. "Malfoy," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Scorpius Malfoy furrowed his pale brows. "Hmm?"

Suddenly, Professor Parkinson grinned, showing her teeth. Her smile was so mortifying that all first-years took a step back. "Fifty points from Slytherin!" she said with satisfaction.

"For what?" Malfoy uttered, confused to no end.

"For your lack of respect for your teacher and poor manners," Professor Parkinson replied smoothly.

Malfoy opened his mouth agape, startled, and tried to argue. "But-"

Professor Parkinson lifted her hand, silencing him. "You've just lost Slytherin another twenty points and earned yourself a detention every day for a month." Her pleased smirk only grew as she relished the foolish, shocked look on Malfoy's face.

He protested, "It's not fair! Professor, I haven't even said any-"

"Here it goes again, Mr Malfoy. Another fifty points down the drain," Professor Parkinson announced gleefully and crossed her arms on her chest.

"How?" Malfoy coughed out, staring at her in disbelief. He shook his head as though he was trying to wake up from a nightmare.

Professor Parkinson sighed cheerfully. "Your rudeness doesn't know boundaries. I'm deducting thirty further points and extending your daily detention to all the way until the summer holidays. I hope you'll enjoy your first year at Hogwarts."

Malfoy slumped his shoulders and collapsed onto the nearest sofa, hyperventilating. Beads of sweat developed on his forehead and temples. He hid his face in his hands and let out a single, miserable whine.

Professor Parkinson brushed past the students, heading toward the exit out of the common room. As she was walking past Al, she chuckled and muttered to herself, "I've waited for it almost twenty years." She glared at the first years over her shoulder. "Go to your dormitories, brats! Girls left, boys right. Shoo! Off my sight." And she left.

Rocking back and forth on the sofa like a traumatized person, Malfoy kept shaking his head in denial. He looked up, at his housemates and exclaimed, "I can't believe it!"

Barnaby Selwyn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitantly glancing at the other Slytherin boys. He sighed heavily and said, "We can't believe it either, Malfoy. You're at Hogwarts for less than twenty-four hours and you've managed to lose our house one hundred and fifty points already. Thanks to you, we don't stand a chance of winning the House Cup this year." Selwyn stared at Scorpius accusingly.

"How is this my fault?" Malfoy scoffed defensively. "Parkinson took the points for no reason!"

Selwyn clenched his squirrel teeth. "You know what?" He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked at Malfoy with superiority. "It will be better if we don't hang out. I don't want Parkinson to see us together and give me a year-long detention too." Searching for approval, he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of young Slytherins.

Higgs nodded and took a place by Selwyn's side. "Yeah, that would suck," he admitted.

Barnaby Selwyn bit his lower lips and cast the last, condescending look at Malfoy before heading to the boy's dormitory. Higgs and Runcorn hurried after him and flanked the new popular guy. The girls whispered amongst each other and, apparently, reached the same conclusion as Selwyn. With their chins so height that their noses pointed at the vaulted ceiling, they strutted away.

Al found himself alone with Malfoy in the common room. He stared at the blond boy, feeling a bit of satisfaction. _He had it coming, that arrogant prick._

Malfoy glared back at Al. "What are you staring at, Potter?"

"Nothing." Al shrugged his shoulders and went to look for his bed.

He followed Selwyn's the obnoxious giggling and passed through another arched portal. Then, he had to climb down a spiral staircase. _Great, the dormitories are in the dungeon's basement_. As it turned out, the first year's bed chamber was quite deep underground. The stone walls felt unpleasantly damn and slick under Al's touch.

When he set his foot in his dormitory, his unhappy frown even deepened. The room looked just as unwelcoming as the rest of Slytherin's dungeons. The furnishings were sparse, but seemed expensive. Dark wood wardrobes and bed stands had fittings from pure silver. The precious metal glistened in the dim light of the green lamps. Five, massive four poster beds stood in a row, being the solitary source of colour in the gloomy dormitory. Heavy, velvet canopies and curtains shrouded each of them. The fabric was green, embroidered with silver thread and depicting images of snakes. Al doubted it would help him get a good night's sleep.

Selwyn, Runcorn and Higgs were sitting on one of the beds, gossiping in hushed voices and cackling. Briefly, they glanced at Al, but then went back to what they were doing, treating him as though he were invisible. Feeling down, young Potter dragged himself to the last bed in the row, where his belongings were. He opened Draco's cage, but the ferret only glared at him from the inside and didn't crawl out. Al sighed, kicked his shoes off and threw himself onto the bed. He slid the velvet curtains shut, muffling the annoying voices of the Slytherins and stared at the canopy over his head. There was an image of a basilisk painted on the fabric, and it kept moving and hissing at Al.

 _What am I doing here?_

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 **Next time, the plot will finally arrive, triggering the chilling series of events. Young Albus and his cousin Zach Dursley will find themselves in a mess. Excitement!**

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	5. Chapter 5: Meaning of Life

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **I'm giving extra-strong hugs to Son of Whitebeard, Silbernacht and Nyght elf for continuing support. Also, the virtual cupcakes go to Gibbous1992 and a mysterious Guest. Guys, keep reviewing, please. You're driving me to write the chapters.**

 **Thinking of which, enjoy this one!**

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Chapter 5: Meaning of Life

Al couldn't pinpoint the moment he fell asleep. Faintly, he remembered the moment when Malfoy entered the dormitory and crawled into the bed next to his. Selwyn and his lackeys threw some half-hearted comments and kept playing exploding snap. After that, the young Potter drifted off to sleep, dreaming.

In his nightmare, he kept re-living the events of his first day at Hogwarts: how he sat in the boat while Fawley saved the drowning girl, the moment he got sorted into Slytherin and the overwhelming feelings of shame and dismay that filled every inch of his body. The monotone sound of the water above the dungeon kept him chained to his nightmare when the images shifted into something even worse. He dreamt that he opened his eyes and stared at a pale, nose-less face drifting in front of him. Red eyes narrowed and the figment of his imagination surveyed him curiously, making Al shiver under the scrutiny. Then, he closed his eyes, but the sensation of dread didn't disappear.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream pierced the silence.

"Wha-" Al snapped out of his dream immediately, and looked around in confusion. He tried to get out of the bed, but he got tangled in the thick, velvet, curtains. When he managed to shove them apart, he saw Malfoy's silhouette.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Selwyn complained from the other side of the dormitory. "We were sleeping here."

The pretentious prick Malfoy sat on his bed upright, panting heavily. He was clutching his chest like an old man right before a heart attack. A solitary lamp was still burning, although dimmed, so Al could discern the expression Scorpius's face, more or less. The blond boy was petrified from terror, not just a bit shaken by a bad dream, but scared almost to death. His lips kept moving as if he was reciting some evil-warding incantation, his usually fair complexion turned completely white like a sheet.

Al knit his brows together, wondering what nightmare Malfoy just had. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty horrible, for Scorpius didn't go back to sleep after that. With the wand in his hand, he kept watch, vigilantly staring at every shadow in each corner. When Al woke up, Malfoy was still keeping watch, with dark bags under his eyes. Hearing the commotion in the bed next to his, Scorpius flinched and yelped like a spooked girl.

 _I don't even want to know_ , Al thought, quickly getting ready for his classes. As he picked up his tie, he froze, staring at the green and silver stripes on it. He wondered _, Who am I now, exactly? I was supposed to be just like dad, and James, and mum . . ._ _Should I just resign myself to being a Slytherin? I don't have much of a choice, but it's not I want. I need to be brave and chivalrous, like a Gryffindor, have crazy midnight adventures, maybe beat Slytherins in a quidditch match._

"Hey, Potter!"

He looked over his shoulder at Selwyn, Higgs and Runcorn who were dressed already, ready to leave the dormitory.

"Stop pondering the meaning of your life," Selwyn said. "If you're late for transfiguration, we'll get more points deducted, if that's even possible." He snarled and looked at Malfoy who was dawdling.

The upcoming class, herbology, was the best that happened to Al since he started his miserable adventure with Hogwarts. Not only did he get to see his godfather Neville, but also the Gryffindors were there. Al's heart lightened immediately as soon as he spotted the mass of frizzy, wild hair in the shade of carrot orange. Rosie let out a delighted squeak and, shoving her fellow Gryffindors aside, rushed to greet her cousin.

"You survived the night at Slytherin's dormitories!" she exclaimed in wonder and readjusted Al's tie.

He grinned back, but they didn't get a chance to catch up, because Neville came to collect his class. The students had to be escorted from a small boot room to the greenhouse number five which looked the tackiest of them all. The walk took under two minutes and it was utterly ridiculous that they were banned from doing it on their own.

Once inside the greenhouse, Neville greeted them warmly, saving a special smile for Al and Rosie. Briefly, he went over the magical and non-magical uses of molly, asphodel and dittany. Then, he had the first years pair up and harvest the plants.

Rosie grabbed a pair of rusty sheers and carefully cut off an asphodel blossom, letting Al grab it and put it away into a container. "Hogwarts is all I've ever dreamt of," she shared with a smile lingering on her lips. "The prefects gave us such a kind welcome, with music and even tiny presents. The whole common room was decorated in red and golden garlands, the singing confetti rained from the ceiling. I'd never expect the older guys to throw us a full-blown party." Rosie scowled slightly and accidentally cut off an immature asphodel bloom. "There was a cake too, but I didn't like it too much. I'm just not the fan of pistachio."

Al fixed his gaze on the container where he gathered the harvested flowers and angrily slammed the lid shut. "Pistachio is my favourite flavour," he whispered.

Rosie opened her mouth agape. "The cake . . . It was for . . . "

"Me? Probably." Al bit his lower lip, feeling bitter. "A welcome-to-Gryffindor cake I've never gotten to eat."

"I'm so sorry," Rosie said quietly and stared at Al with remorse in her blue eyes. "I shouldn't have blabbered about the party without thought." She stiffened and cast a suspicious look at her disgruntled cousin. "Did you get hazed or something?"

Al shook his head and reached for another container for the molly. "No, nothing of that stuff. Actually, I slept like a rock." He froze, remembering his dreams about being sorted into Slytherin and that particular one, right before he got woken up by Malfoy's girly shriek. "I had a nightmare, though, about this face floating over me. It's probably unimportant."

"If you say so." Rosie shrugged her shoulders and moved to the molly bush. She waited for Al to place the container under the blue blossoms and she started cutting. Her eyes were still focused on her cousin instead on the flower. "You look terribly pale."

Al sighed heavily and leaned against the steel stanchion. Morosely, he stared at the molly blossoms and watch them fall. "I'm lost, Rosie. All my life I wanted to make my parents proud, to be like dad and James, but, now, I know I can't." He shifted his forlorn gaze to the tips of his shoes and admitted, "I have no clue who am I supposed to be."

"You're talking like a Disney princess," Rosie commented in a deadpan voice.

"Like who?" Al didn't quite get the comparison.

"Never mind. It's just a muggle thing my mum told me about." Rosie sighed and turned around to face her cousin. She licked her lips, bearing a focused, solemn expression on her face as though she was about to voice a controversial thought. "Al, maybe this whole Slytherin problem of yours is a good thing."

Al gasped, choking on air. _I can't believe Rosie just gave up on me!_ He clenched his fists and exclaimed, "How the heck could it be good? I have to sleep in a basement with no windows! For crying out loud, we have skulls in the common room. It looks like a bloody evil lair!"

Neville cleared his throat loudly and gave Al a meaningful look. "Albus, could you keep it down?"

"Sorry, Ne-" Quickly, Al corrected himself. "Sorry, Professor Longbottom." He leaned toward Rosie and kept his voice a hushed whisper. "Anyway, I'm stuck at Slytherin now and the life, I should lead, is gone. I'm not sure what I should do. I can't simply get into terms with being a Slytherin, but fighting it will accomplish nothing."

Rosie interrupted his heated tirade by placing her palm on his shoulder. She squeezed it reassuringly and took a deep, calm breath. "Whatever you do, I'll be there to support you. As will be James and the rest of the Weasleys," she vowed.

Al exhaled slowly. "Thanks, Rosie. Way to go to have me feel like the alcoholic uncle of the family." He grabbed the sheers and severed an entire branch of dittany instead of cutting one leaf at a time. The entire plant shook and shivered in agony until it dried out within a second. Seeing the dittany bush crumble into dust, Al stumbled back. "Oh dear."

Thanks to Rosie's hard work, they managed to finish the assignment without a further catastrophe. When the herbology class ended, Al hoped he would be able to talk to Neville for a bit, but his godfather got called somewhere by Nearly Headless Nick, Gryffindor's resident ghost.

Al had to briefly part with Rosie to attend transfiguration which Slytherins shared with rather annoying and definitely nerdy Ravenclaws. The class was being held by the witch who had put the Sorting Hat on the first years' heads. Apparently, she was the head of Hufflepuff. Although she introduced herself as Evangeline Wendell, a clearly female name, Al was sure she was a man in disguise. He could have sworn he saw a shadow of rough, dark facial hair on her cheeks.

After transfiguration, Al got intercepted by Rosie again and forced to sit in the library until his buttocks were numb. Why his cousin insisted on completing her homework right away, was beyond his comprehension. At least, he managed to steer away from the fellow Slytherins and the horde of his Gryffindor family members.

Later that day, there was one class more – astronomy at midnight on the top-most level of the tallest tower in the castle. Waddling after the sulking group of your Slytherins, Al grabbed his shiny, new telescope and set off. By the time he managed to climb all the way to the terrace on the Astronomy Tower, he was out of breath. Panting, bent in half and with his lungs burning, he leaned on the battlements and waited for the class to commence.

Almost a dozen of Hufflepuffs were also there, with their faces scarlet from the physical exercise. Unlike the flamboyant and smug Slytherins, they clutched their telescoped closely to their chests, anxiously glancing at the clear, starry sky.

Finally, a lean, elderly witch walked out of the entrance turret and surveyed the students. Her gaze was vivacious and keen, but she leaned on a walking stick, limping a bit. She slammed the stone flooring with her cane once, signalling the astronomy class to commence and said, "Welcome to your first year of Astronomy. My name is Professor Aurora Sinistra. Today, we'll-" The witch paused and limped toward the Hufflepuffs, who parted like Red Sea, revealing a thick-boned boy.

Curiously, instead of regular Hufflepuff robes, he was dressed in teddy bear pyjamas. Unapologetically, he yawned, showing his whole throat, and lazily rubbed his eyes.

Professor Sinistra scoffed, shocked. "Why are you wearing your pyjamas, Mr -"

One of the Hufflepuffs snitched, "Dursley. Zachary Dursley."

"Where are your school robes, Mr Dursley?" Sinistra demanded, frantically clocking her walking stick against the floor until it started giving quite a nice beat.

"Huh?" Zach Dursley tucked his hand under his pyjama and scratched his protruding belly, displaying it for all to see."Lady, it's the middle of the night, I was sleeping," he moaned and yawned again. "Geez, it's freaky not to sleep in the night, every normal person knows that."

Sinestra sighed heavily, calming herself. "Next time, Mr Dusley, I expect you to be properly dressed for my class and attentive. I won't deduct any points from Hufflepuff today, but my warning is serious." She huffed and ordered everyone to set their telescopes.

Until almost two in the morning, Sinestra had her students study the night sky and cross check their observations with the start charts. She kept listing all the names of celestial bodies, conveying too much information for an eleven-year old mind to process. At first, Al was incredibly interested and excited, but, after the first wave of anticipation came and went, his eyes started closing. When the professor announced the end of the class, both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins breathed out with relief. Like a horde of underage zombies, they dragged themselves to their respective dormitories.

Al let everyone else enter the exit turret before him and he got noticed by Zach, who was also staying a bit behind. The big Dursley boy blinked, squinting his eyes and burst into cheerful laughter that echoed across the staircase. Brutally, he patted Al on his back, making the young Potter gasp for air.

Much to Al's dismay, Zach ruffled his hair with his fist, gleefully chuckling. "Oh, Al, you were here all the time? I haven't seen you."

"It's probably because you were snoozing most of the time," Al rebutted and ducked before Zach could torture his head some more.

"Maybe." Zach pushed himself before Al as they were descending the steep, spiral staircase. He looked over his shoulder, staring at the green and silver tie. "So, you're one of those sly-guys. Figures, you were always kind of sly when we were little."

"Really?" Al looked down to watch his step when he was finally made it out of the Astronomy Tower and set his foot on the landing.

He and Zach were now on one of the top levels of the Hogwarts Castle, in a spacious, long corridor. A high, rib-vault ceiling was supported by massive pillars that cast eerie shadows onto the walls. Only several lamps were still burning, shedding very little light at the hall. The distant sound of the footsteps echoed faintly across the corridor, but the first year students were already out of sight, far ahead.

"Zach, maybe we should catch up to the others," Al suggested. He put his arms around his torso and rubbed his upper arms; he felt cold.

"Sure, sly-guy, whatever you say," Zach muttered, shrugging indifferently, and shivered. Suddenly, he flinched and rubbed his eyes energetically; his gaze fixed on one of the pillars. "I'm so tired I'm seeing things." He grabbed Al's sleeve and yanked it so violently that he tore the fabric a little. "Al."

"What are you doing, Zach?" Al gritted his teeth. He tried to unclench Zach's fingers and free his sleeve, but his cousin was gripping him unyieldingly.

Zach shook his head and stumbled back, dragging Al with him. "I'm not going that way. It's a bad direction, I tell you."

Al rolled his eyes, feeling increasingly tired and annoyed. "It's the right direction, I'm almost sure of that."

"There's something there, in the shadows, lurking," Zach whispered fearfully. Come to think of it, it was the first time Al saw his cousin with his face twisted in a grimace of terror. Zach gulped and whined, "Why did dad make me go to this freak school? First, classes in the middle of the bloody night and now some creepy stuff is going on." He pointed his finger. "A ghost!"

Sighing, Al looked at the supposedly dreadful apparition. Zach was right, there was a ghost. A translucent silhouette of a beautiful woman glided across the corridor silently, slaloming around the pillars. Her locks and the floor-length cloak flowed behind her as if moved by a gentle breeze.

Al glared at Zach, dismayed that his cousin panicked. "It's just the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's resident ghost. She's friendly and there's nothing to be afraid of."

Zach swallowed a bill in his throat, fidgeting nervously. "I wasn't talking about her. I'm freaked out because of the other guy," he stammered, cowering behind Al.

"What other guy?" Al knit his eyebrows in confusion and stared at the Grey Lady.

Then, Zach grabbed his head and readjusted it manually so that the young Potter would look precisely in the right direction. He caught a glimpse of something pale and ethereal vanishing behind one of the pillars. Then, it emerged out into the open, a tall, thin silhouette of another ghost following the Grey Lady. She seemed to glide without a care in the world, unaware of the one stalking her in secret. The mysterious apparition darted forth, hiding in the wall and reappeared in front of the female ghost.

Suddenly, the sneaky phantom jumped the Grey Lady. He leaped at her without warning and sank his claw like hand in her transparent body. Shocked, she let out a sharp, high-pitched shriek of terror, but her screams got quickly silenced when the strange ghost lounged at her throat. He mauled her like a rabid canine, tearing her incorporeal flesh apart. The Grey Lady gurgled and twitched when she was being devoured by the other ghost.

Zach screamed like a heroine of a muggle horror movie. His eyes were bulging as he gawked at the gruesome scene unfolding before him. "He's eating her . . . and then he's going to eat me! . . . Oh my god!"

His panicked shrieks got the murderous ghost's attention. Releasing what was left from the Grey Lady, he looked up, at the boys, and wiped the silvery blood off his chin. His piercing, glowing, red eyes stared back at Al.

The young Potter recognized the mutilated, almost inhuman face; he saw it floating above him in his nightmare. He felt a surge of cold course through his veins, reaching every inch of body. His legs froze and his knees buckled, but the survival instinct was stronger than his fear. "Move!" He grabbed Zach and started hauling him away from the ghost.

Both boys, driven by the dread, broke into a sprint. Even the overweight Zach kept the pace up; in truth, he was outrunning Al. They ran down some stairs, took a couple random turns around the corners and entered the part of the castle they hadn't had the chance to explore yet. Al dashed past a gargoyle.

Zach looked over his shoulder and shrieked again. "He's coming this way!" Suddenly, he crashed into an empty suit of armour. The force of impact made him smash right through, dismembering the steel decoration. Pieces of metal flew in all directions, hitting the walls, breaking one of the windows. One of them brushed against Al's cheek, cutting it. Then, the parts of armour landed on the floor, making a lot of noise.

While Al struggled to dig his cousin out of the pile of gauntlets, vambrace and a particularly heavy chest plate, a stone gargoyle shift aside, revealing a secret passage.

Professor Vector, the strict headmistress, strolled out of there, her furious gaze fixed on the boys. She pulled her want out of the pocket of her pink, fluffy bathrobe and lit it. "Mr Potter and Mr Dursley," Professor Vector hissed through clenched teeth, taking in the destruction Zach had inflicted upon the suit of armour. "What happened here?"

Al gulped. "It's not what it looks like, professor."

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 **Who you're gonna call?**

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	6. Chapter 6: Vanishing Credibility

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Silbernacht and Nyght elf, thanks for the continuing support and the reviews. You're both amazing.**

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Chapter 6: Vanishing Credibility

The Hospital Wing was quiet and empty in the middle of the night. Without quidditch and on the second day of school, none of the students managed to wound themselves yet. Bright moonlight was seeping through the tall arched windows, shedding its glow upon pristine, white sheets spread on the beds.

Hannah Longbottom, Hogwarts' nurse and Neville's wife, sat in her office adjoining the Hospital Wing. Bent over the thick book, she didn't notice Professor Vector hauling two students until she spoke up.

"Hannah, I have injured students here!" Professor Vector exclaimed, ushering Al and Zach inside and guiding them forward.

Hannah raised her head to see what the late night interruption was about and sprung to her feet. Hastily, she tied a fresh apron and ran up to the newcomers. "What happened?"

Professor Vector pushed Al and Zach in front of her, letting Hannah tale a good at them. "I found them outside my office, sneaking about and wrecking school property. Babbling nonsense as well."

"It's not nonsense!" Al protested. "I know what I saw." He felt Hannah's hand close around his upper arm.

She dragged him over to the closest bed and forced him to sit down. In a soothing, gentle voice, she told him, "Albus, lay down. I'll get you some dittany essence in a moment and perhaps fix you a calming draught"

"I don't need it," Al replied stubbornly and crossed his arms on his chest. He had no intention of either lying down or taking any medicine.

His bullheadedness didn't meet with Vector's approval. The headmistress glared at him like a Hungarian Horntail eyes a helpless, little rabbit. "Mr Potter, don't argue and get into the bed!"

Al's survival instinct kicked in again and compelled him to dive under the bedcovers. He didn't even bother to take his robes or shoes off. Instead, he pulled the clean sheets over his body; they smelled like pine trees. Once securely in bed, he lifted his head to observe what Hannah was doing with Zach.

His cousin behaved strangely since Vector dragged him from under the pile of armour parts. Random shivers kept shaking his big body even though it was pleasantly warm in the Hospital Wing. Oddly silent, Zach stared with his blank gaze fixed somewhere in front of him. Beads of sweat developed on his forehead and ghastly pallid face, travelling down his nose and chin. Large, wet stains appeared on his teddy bear pyjamas. He looked somewhat like Malfoy the night before.

"What's wrong with him?" Al asked Hannah.

The nurse wasn't answering for a longer while. She used the Lumos spell to light her wand and shone it right into Zach's eyes. Also, she checked his throat, poured some potions on his skin and cast a series of charms Al couldn't recognize. Finally, she pulled back and sighed. "Nothing, really . . . He's scared, very much so. I have seen something exactly like this, Septima. Three days ago." She looked directly at Vector.

Both witches exchanged meaningful glances. Al could tell they knew something.

"What happened three days ago?" he asked curiously, but the sharp glare from Professor Vector made him seal his lips shut and pill the bedcovers all the way to his chin. "I'm quiet now."

"I'll talk you in the morning, Mr Potter," Vector said and nodded to Hannah.

The nurse grabbed two bottles from the medicine cabinet that took up a whole wall. One of them said "Dittany Essence." When poured some on a wad of cotton wool and pressed to Al's cheek, the small cut prickled a bit, healing. She also tried to give Al the Calming Potion, but he wriggled and frowned. However, Vector kept giving him those terrifying glares of disapproval, so he accepted the bottle from Hannah. He took a big gulp and immediately laid down, holding the sour liquid in his mouth. Al turned his back on the witches and his cousin, pressing his face against the pillow. Then, as covertly as he could, he opened his lips and let the Calming Potion seep out.

He pretended to fall asleep and had to wait a really long time until he managed to do some eavesdropping. It was still dark in the Hospital wing when Vector and Hannah must have came to a conclusion that Al was totally out.

"Do we need to transport him to St Mungo's, Hannah?" the headmistress asked.

Hannah hesitated a bit before answering. "I believe there's no need. Hestia was in a much worse state when we found her. Some bed rest and a big dose of a calming draught should be enough for this boy to recover." She paused, her voice getting tense and shaky as though she was feeling unsettled. "Septima, it's not an isolated incident anymore. If another students falls victim to this inexplicable condition . . . "

"Hogwarts survived worse ordeals," Vector stated firmly; probably, she referred to the numerous catastrophes during Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts. She tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair. "Zachary Dusley is a muggleborn. He might have simply got scared off something in the castle." She sounded as if she wasn't really convinced of her own words.

Neither was Hannah. The nurse told Vector, "Hestia was a highly trained, experienced auror who fought Voldemort's Death Eaters. She wouldn't get scared of a ghost or a moving painting. How would you explain she suffered much more severe damage than Zachary?"

Both witched fell silent for several minutes and, much to Al's disappointment, moved to the Nurse's Office to continue their conversation. It was close enough for him to hear their hushed, erratic whispers, but too far to actually discern the words. He sighed and pressed his face against the wet pillow, trying to catch some sleep.

Zach thrashed in his bed, sweating and muttering in sleep, "Don't eat me . . . don't . . . don't!"

Al didn't even know when he fell asleep, despite all the noise Zach was making. Surprisingly, no bad dreams haunted him tonight. The wakeup call was, however, less pleasant. The first thing Al sensed, were expecting stares focused on him. He didn't even have to open his eyes; he heard them holding their breaths. When he opened his eyes, he felt as though he was facing an inquisition squad.

On the chair between his and Zach's beds sat Professor Vector, still in her pink, fluffy bathrobe. She held her hands on her lap and eyed the young Potter from above like a hawk. Neville and Hannah stood behind her, providing support. Normally, Al would be happy to see his godfather, but it was immensely difficult to relax with Vector towering over him.

"Mr Potter, I need you to tell me everything ," the headmistress demanded, not wasting any time for pleasantries.

Muffling a yawn and rubbing the sand out of his eyes, Al looked around. He gasped, noticing his cousin propped against the pillows and awake. Zach's eyes were half-closed and he had a foolish, dreamy grin on his lips, but he seemed much calmer than the night before.

"Zach, you're fine!" Al exclaimed, glad that his cousin recovered from shock.

Zach turned to look at Al; his head lolled from side to side. "I feel weird, sly guy. Like that time I broke into my dad's liquor cabinet." He hiccupped and giggled.

"You should go easy on that calming draught," Al advised him.

"Mr Potter, focus!" Vector clapped her hands, making the young Potter start. She leaned forward and fixed her inquisitive stare on him. "What happened after the yesterday's astronomy class?"

Al stiffened, recalling the dreadful events of the last night. The feeling of overwhelming fear and a really bad hunched made his toes cramp under the bedcovers. He gulped, staring back at Professor Vector. _I should tell her the truth_ , he decided and summarized everything as accurately as he could. "I and Zach saw a ghost eating Grey Lady, he chased us, Zach ran into the suit of armour. Then, you found us and that's it." He waited for the reaction.

Neville lightly elbowed his wife and asked her, "Hannah, how much of the calming draught have you given my godson?" His whisper was way louder than he believed it to be.

The headmistress didn't show any emotions; her face was like an unreadable mask of a muggle sculpture. "Can you describe the ghost, Mr Potter?" she asked.

"White-ish, transparent," Al told her, wondering how should the phrase the description. It was harder than it seemed. Thoughtfully, he scratched his freshly healed cheek. "Although, the ghost got slightly less transparent after he ripped Grey Lady to shreds. He had also this smooth head"

"Smooth how?" Vector knit her narrow eyebrows together, what made three, horizontal wrinkles on her forehead deepen and bend. "Was he bald?"

Al nodded. "And he had those glowing, red eyes. They were really piercing and ominous, like there was something purely evil in them. When he looked at me, I felt his hatred and that he knew something." The boy bit his lower lip and shrugged apologetically; it was all.

Vector let out a lengthy sigh and leaned back on her chair. As she massaged her temples, her face twisted in a grimace of stark disappointment mixing with increasing irritation. "You've just given me the most generic ghost description imaginable. How am I supposed to take your words seriously?"

Al gasped and exclaimed defensively, "It's true, I swear! Besides, Zach saw that ghost too, just ask him!" He pointed his finger at his cousin, the other eye witness.

"I have done that already," Vector said quietly.

Al froze, startled. Sharply, he turned his head to stare at his cousin in disbelief.

The tipsy grin vanished from Zach's face, although he still bobbed a little as the after effect of the Calming Potion. He clasped his hands together on his lap and stared at them, refusing to meet Al's eye.

"Zach . . . " Al whispered. Probably, he had never felt so betrayed and disappointed in his entire eleven years of life.

Zach hunched his back, appearing smaller and more fragile than he really was. Still not looking at his cousin, he mumbled out, "Sorry, sly-guy. I guess I just got scared because of some ghosts and that's it. I'm from a normal family; Little Whinging doesn't have moving pictures, ghosts or anything of this sort. It's all new to me, this freaky magic stuff, and I panicked." His words sounded as though he was repeating back a text he had learned by rote.

Al glanced at Professor Vector. _She made him say all these things, maybe even convinced him it was true or changed his memories. Whatever's happening, she wants to sweep it all under the rug so that Hogwarts stays open_. Al clenched his hands on his bedcovers, crumpling them, and glared at Zach. "No, you saw him. Don't you deny it!"

Zach turned his back on Al and shook his head.

Hannah glanced at the boys and glided past her husband to tend to Zach. Reassuringly, she patted him on the pack and shrouded him in an extra sheet, tucking him in as though he were a baby. When she looked over her shoulder at Al, her gaze wasn't so soft. "Albus, Zachary needs some rest now. Please, don't harass him."

Al sucked in a shallow breath. "I'm not!" He looked at Vector and tried to reason with her. "I'm just trying to tell you all that something bad is happening at Hogwarts right now. If you don't believe me, you can look for Grey Lady. I guarantee you won't find her, because she got devoured last night."

Vector scowled, not bothering to hide her mood anymore. Dryly, she asked the young Potter, "Have you seen someone or something corporeal?"

"No, just the ghost who murdered the other ghost," Al repeated slowly and as calmly as he could. By now, he expected Vector to be against him, but didn't think that his own godfather would team up with the headmistress.

Neville stared at Al with concern, what felt somewhat mocking. "Albus, ghosts can't get murdered. They're already dead. It's possible to banish them, but it must be done by a living person." He sighed. "Why are you insisting-"

"Because it's true!" Al interrupted him. Only after the words rolled off his tongue, he realized he had yelled at the top of his lungs.

"We're done here." Vector stood up and straightened her fluffy bathrobe. Before leaving, she send Al one last, parting glare of disapproval. "Potter, get some sleep and clear your mind. I don't want to hear you spilling nonsense ever again."

Hannah walked the headmistress out, what left Al with his godfather.

Neville grabbed the chair, Vector had been sitting on, and pulled it closer to his godson's bed. "Do you want to talk?" He sat down and rested his elbows on the edge of Al's bed.

"Is there a point to it?" Al scoffed, throwing himself on the pillows and burying himself in the bedcovers. He stared at the ceiling. "No one listens to me anyway."

Hannah forced Al to take a nap, so he slept until noon. He missed the double Charms with Professor Xenophilius Lovegood and transfiguration. For once, he was glad he wasn't sharing all classes with Rosie. If she found out about his misadventure, she'd fuss about it for a month. With his rotten luck, Al got released from the Hospital Wing right in time for the Potions with the head of his house, Professor Parkinson.

By the time he made it to the dungeons, where the class was being held, he saw the small crowd of first years already present in the corridor. On one side stood the Slytherins and the Gryffindors on the opposite one. Both groups eyed each other with open hostility, engaged in excessive backbiting. Apparently, the fabled Slytherin-Gryffindor enmity started out sometime in the morning, when Al was soundly asleep. Craning his neck, he saw Malfoy, propping the wall in some distance from his housemates and Rosie, chatting with the other Gryffindor girls. Al beckoned to his cousins, but they weren't allowed to greet each other.

Suddenly, the door to the potions' classroom flew open and Professor Parkinson's perpetually annoyed voice echoed across the dungeons. "Gather up, brats!" She emerged from the room to usher them in. With her hair up and in a multi-coloured dress, she looked like a peacock crossbred with an angry pug. "Inside!" she barked and glared at the students until they found their way to their places. "Take your books out and open them on page twenty-five."

Rosie raised her hand. "Professor, I have a question."

"Denied!" Parkinson yelled violently, making Rosie cower behind her desk. The potions' teacher propped her hand on her hip and swept her gaze over the classroom."Do any of you have any more stupid questions? No? Good." She snapped her fingers. "Now, pair up, open your textbooks and start brewing the Wiggenweld Potion. Everyone who doesn't succeed, gets triple homework."

Having given orders, she retreated to an armchair that stood in the corner and nestled in it with the latest issue of Witch's Digest in her hand. She flicked her hand and the tea started boiling in a large, dented mug.

"Unbelievable," Malfoy muttered from the furthest corner of the classroom where he stood by his cauldron; he was the only one without a partner.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Professor Parkinson said, without tearing her eyes away from the magazine she was reading.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and flipped his book open. "For what?" he mumbled to himself.

Parkinson glared at him over Witch's Digest. "For you existing. Stop lazing about and get to brewing or I'll give you a detention." The magazine was covering the lower half of her face, so her villainous smirk couldn't be seen, but Al noticed the malicious spark in her pale eyes.

"You've already done that," Malfoy reminded her. "I have a detention every day for the rest of the first year."

Parkinson shrugged her shoulders indifferently and turned a page. "Well, I'll think of something. Ten points from Slytherin for talking back to your teacher."

Al had seen this routine before, but for Rosie, it was a shock. She gawked at Parkinson in disbelief. "She's being really tough on Malfoy. Does she have a grudge against him?"

"No idea. He doesn't have a clue either," Al replied; he didn't really care about Malfoy's well being or Slytherin losing points. What was on his mind, however, was what happened with the Grey Lady. "Say, Rosie, have you noticed anything weird in the castle?"

Rosie stared at him, confused. "Weird how? Al, it's Hogwarts. Weird things are behind every corner here."

Al flipped his copy of Magical Drafts and Potions on page twenty-five and skimmed over the list of ingredients. With the corner of his eye, he observed Rosie's reaction. "Don't you think there's something happening to ghosts?"

"Not really. Well, peeves dumped a bucket of dung on Victoire's head during the breakfast, but that's supposed to be normal. At least, that's what James told me," Rosie said. Suddenly, she froze over her textbook, a focused expression on her freckled face. "Hang on, Neville tried to call Nearly Headless Nick and deliver him a message, but he couldn't find him. No one saw him since the Start-of-Term Feast."

"So he has gotten him too," Al muttered grimly. He felt as though another piece of a big and complicated puzzle fell into a place. "Grace said that Bloody Baron vanished sometime ago. I bet he's one of the first victims."

Rose gawked at him, befuddled. It wasn't her fault; she was in a different house and wasn't hanging out with Al all the time. "Al, what are you talking about? Who's Grace?" she inquired.

"Grace's a prefect in Slytherin," Al answered and started second guessing his idea of dragging Rosie into the paranormal investigation. She's probably run straight to James and his team of Gryffindor friends. Of course, they'll be the ones to figure out the mystery and Al would end up side lined.

He was so deeply immersed in his gloomy thoughts that Rosie had to pinch his cheek to get his attention.

"What?" Al rubbed his aching cheek; she pinched the same one that got cut earlier.

Rosie looked around, making sure everyone was busy reading the instructions how to make the Wiggenweld Potion. "When I was relaxing in the library, I overheard two Hufflepuffs talking about their resident ghost, the Fat Friar. He's missing too," she whispered secretively, unaware of the significance of her words. She arched her eyebrow, leaning back, away from Albus. "Al, why are you smirking? You're creeping me out."

"We're onto something, Rosie," Al told her.

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 **How did you like this chapter? Review, please!**


	7. Chapter 7: Ghost Protection

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Sorry for the delay, guys. I was on vacation (it was tough) and the summer laziness claimed me. Now, however, it's over and I'm back in the game! Enjoy the chapter.**

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Chapter 7: Ghost Protection

On Thursdays, the first class in the day was Defence Against Dark Arts, perhaps the most anticipated one out of all. Al was especially pumped up for it, since it was being taught by no other than their very own Teddy Lupin. It was odd to have someone as young as him give instructions, but Al had no doubts his honorary older brother would do well. After all, Teddy passed N.E.W.T.S. with flying colours; not to mention that his godfather and Rosie's mum helped him out quite a bit too. Al hoped to intercept him earlier, but young Professor Lupin was busy learning about everything that there was to teaching.

Al tapped his fingers against his desk, keeping an upbeat rhythm, and observed his classmates. The Ravenclaws already took their textbooks out and started memorizing all they could, geeks. Members of the Slytherin House were much more relaxed, chatting about brooms, mansions and the latest trends in fashion. Malfoy, like in every class, sat in the most remote corner, reading a book; Al was pretty sure it wasn't a DADA textbook.

The rusty hinges creaked and the classroom's door opened. Teddy strolled in with a bright smile on his face and took his place behind lectern. Today, his hair wasn't the vivid shade of blue, but had a regular, brownish colour. It looked strange on him, a bit like a spy disguise.

"Hello, guys!" He waved to the students. "Do you want to learn some cool stuff today?"

Some of the more uptight students stared at him distractingly. The rest exchanged unsure, befuddled glances. Teddy's cheerful attitude might have worked on Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, but today's crowd wasn't really having a great sense of humour.

Teddy bit his lower lip, a bit abashed. "Alright," he said slowly. "Today, we'll be covering the topic of friendly possession. Does anyone know the definition?"

Barely he finished speaking, when half of the class, of course the Ravenclaw half, shot their arms in the air and waved them widely.

Teddy pointed at a girl with a braid so long that it brushed against the floor, gathering dust and dirt. "Yes?"

The girl took a deep breath and started reciting, "Possession takes place when a being or a former being takes control over a human body. We distinct a voluntarily or an involuntarily possession, possession via spells, potions-"

Teddy raised his hand, cutting her off. She pouted and glared at him, but he laughed it off. "Okay, enough. You did well, though. Five points for Ravenclaw. How many of you have read the entire textbook already?" he asked and let out a miserable sigh when all of Ravenclaw raised their hands."Figures," Teddy muttered, cleared his throat and got his confidence back. "Let's list several ways one could get possessed." Climbing on his tippy toes, he fished out the student that seemed least interested in the class. He pointed his finger straight at Malfoy. "The blond guy in the back, the one who's clearly not paying attention." When Malfoy looked up, somewhat startled, Teddy nodded. "Yes, you. Give me one way to get possessed."

"Imperius Curse," Malfoy said right away, without needing a moment to think.

A Ravenclaw boy sitting in front of Al leant to his friend and whispered, "Of course, he would know. After all, he's a Death Eater's son. Everybody knows that."

Teddy clapped, pleased, and praised Malfoy. "Very good. Five points to Slytherin. Do you have more ideas?" He looked at the class and picked a Ravenclaw, whom Al recognized.

It was the girl who rode with him on the boat and fell into the lake. Apparently, she got sorted into Ravenclaw, but, today Al saw her in class for the first time. He managed to identify her by the hood she was wearing pulled on her head so that it hid the upper part of her face. Additionally, she wore the blue and brown scarf draped on her as though she was travelling through blizzard. It was impossible to see even a glimpse of her face. When she lifted her hand to get Teddy's attention, Al saw that she had gloves on. It was the beginning of September; it wasn't even a bit chilly yet.

She straightened her back and said, "Vampires can hypnotize people. Does it count as a possession?"

Teddy smiled warmly at her. "It does. You're doing great, Miss Chalmers. Ten points to Ravenclaw." He lifted his wand and started directing a piece of chalk to draw on the blackboard. "You've all given the right answers. However, no one has mention the most spooky type of possession, possession by sprits, ghosts."

The enchanted piece of chalk drew a detailed picture of an apparition, with silvery bloodstains on sheet-like clothes and heavy chains tangled over the ghost's silhouette.

The topic picked Al's interest. He leaned forth on his elbows and greedily listened to Teddy drawing comparisons and distinctions between ghosts, wraiths and poltergeists, as well as smother former human beings. Holding his breath, he gathered information about how the ghosts could possess only weak, unbalanced minds and how most of the apparitions are too weak to take control even of a newborn child. When Teddy announced the end of the class and assigned homework, Al groaned, disappointed he failed to learn more about the ghosts.

"Next week, we'll cover how to prevent the possession," Teddy announced and released the class.

As the class rushed to the exit, Al walked to Teddy. Surprisingly enough, he saw Malfoy rushing to the lectern too, with an expression of unbent determination on his pale, thin face. Dead set on not letting the prick beat him to it, Al cut him off and waved to Teddy to get his attention.

Young Lupin grinned cheerfully and ran his fingers through his slicked hair, fluffing it and ruffling. The dull and proper, brown colour changed into neon blue with a bit of purple on the ends. "Hi, Al, how's it hanging?" Teddy leaned on the lectern casually and scanned Al head to toes. "You look good in green and silver."

"It's great to see you too," Al smiled, glad that teddy didn't try to comfort him like Rose and James. He bit the inside of the cheek, recalling what we was dying to discuss ever since he saw the murderous ghost. "Actually, I wanted to talk about-"

Suddenly, Malfoy cut it. "Professor, can I take some of your time?" he asked politely. At the same time, he elbowed Al and forced him to move aside.

Al scowled and readied his own elbow to retaliate when the element of chaos entered the scene. A mass of shiny, blonde locks swished, announcing the entrance of the chief troublemaker of the Weasley family.

Victoire, a seventeen-year old menace gracefully glided inside, her eyes fixed on her boyfriend. Unapologetically, she rammed Al and Malfoy to get to her target. "Teddy, dearest!" she exclaimed sweetly and threw herself at him. Victoire wrapped her arms around him so tightly that not even the Giant Squid could trap anyone like that. Then, she climbed on her tippy toes and pressed her lips against Teddy's, shamelessly snogging him.

Al only rolled his eyes; he gained immunity to this three years ago. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked genuinely shocked. His otherwise fair face now turned brightly scarlet.

Teddy went along with Victoire for a while until he came to his senses. He grabbed his girlfriend's shoulder and forcefully tore her away from him. "Not now, Victoire," he uttered, flushed and out of breath. "Students are looking!"

Victoire smirked and winked at him seductively. "Oh, don't mind them, my love. Al won't tell anyone and as for the other one . . . " She looked at Malfoy and her eyes went cold as she chuckled darkly. "I can obliviate him later."

Malfoy made a chocking sound and pointed his finger at her accusingly. "I heard that!"

"Finally, I've managed to catch you!"

Al looked over his shoulder to see his older brother waltz into the classroom, swishing his Gryffindor robes.

James pushed past Al, Malfoy and wriggled between Victoire and her boyfriend, earning a kick in the ankle. Unabashed, he patted the young Lupin. "Teddy, you're way more elusive than a golden snitch," he said, grinning and shaking his head.

Poor Teddy found himself squished by the four people who fought for his attention. They started talking all at once, trying to outshout each other. Eventually, the brand new DADA teacher hit his breaking point.

"Back off, all of you!" he yelled, startling his girlfriend, the Potter brothers and an increasingly perturbed Malfoy. Teddy spun around and sought refuge behind the lectern. When the massive piece of furniture separated him from the little, yet rowdy mob, he lifted his hands defensively and told them, "Look, I'd love to hang out with all of you, but I'm so busy right now that I'm awake only thanks to Hannah's Energizing Potion. I should probably cut back on it a little before my liver explodes." Teddy looked at the Potter brothers. "Anyway, James, Al, I might be able to spare an hour or two tomorrow. The headmistress received a shipment of very cool stuff and I'll need a hand dealing with it. Are you up to it? I'll bring butterbeer."

"You're on, Teddy!" James exclaimed and smacked Al on his back. "My evil brother will be there too"

"I'm not evil!" Al protested fiercely. He got worked up, but held his temper and politely told Teddy, "But I accept the invitation. Mum never lets us drink butterbeer at home."

Malfoy crossed his arms on his chest and glared at the Potters with open hatred. "What about me?" he asked Teddy in a demanding tone of a spoiled brat. "Just to be clear, I don't want to hang out with you. I just need you to give me some answers."

Teddy produced a magical calendar from his pocket and pretended he was checking it. "Next week, after class. How does it sound?"

"It might be too late," Malfoy answered gruffly.

"Next week it is!" Teddy announced cheerfully and slammed his calendar shut. He waved to the Potters. "See you on Friday night!" After that, he snatched, Victoire's hand, causing her to giggle, and fled the classroom with her. Their laughter could be heard for some time after they left.

James turned to his younger brother. "Do you think he's busy with work or with Victoire?"

"Some questions should remain unanswered," Al replied philosophically. "For the sake of your mental health."

Al gathered his things and obliviously walked out of the classroom. Without a warning, someone grabbed his arm and snatched him away. He yelped, confused and startled, but relaxed when he saw a familiar mass of red locks.

Rosie hauled him off the main corridor in the third floor into a more secluded area. Her back was hunched, weighed down by the enormously backed bag; surely, she carried there a bit more than just textbooks.

Once they were out of anyone's hearing range, Al asked her, "Rosie, have you found out anything?"

She nodded, "I shuffled through a dozen of books, slept only two hours tonight, but I've got something. Apparently, a ghost can eat another ghost, although it's very rare. It happens roughly once every ten centuries or so. Through devouring a spectre, an apparitions gains strength, is able to haunt more efficiently and, in some extremely occasional cases, move small objects like a poltergeist. However, not every ghost is capable of doing that. Only the foulest and cruellest of souls can commit the crime of absorbing a ghost." Al noticed dark bags under her eyes and how unusually pale she looked today.

"So, we have a dead maniac on the loose," he summed up.

"It appears so." Rosie sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to comb her. Instead, her hand got tangled and she had to fight to free it. When she managed to do that, she looked at Al. "Have you done your part?"

Al reached to his bag and produced a folded piece of parchment from between the pages of his DADA textbook. "Yesterday, I asked Grace and Quin about the missing ghosts. According to them, most of the apparitions haven't been spotted since the Start-of-Term Feast. The disappearances seem to happen more often too." He unfolded the crumpled page and took a good look at the notes he had scribbled with messy, slanted letters. "With the Grey Lady gone, we have left: Edgar Cloggs, he haunts the quidditch pitch."

"We're not allowed out of the castle," Rosie reminded him. "Vector's new rules."

Al mentally crossed Cloggs's name off the list; the quidditch-loving ghost was as good as dead, permanently this time. "Lord Draben, some gloomy nuns, a portly ghost, Moaning Myrtle in the first floor's Girl's Lavatory and Professor Cuthbert Binns, who teaches history of magic."

"My dad told me that Professor Binns can bore everyone to death," Rosie said, repeating back one of the many tales uncle Ron would tell by the fireplace. All the other ones usually involved a bunch of forbidden adventures. From time to time, he tried to tell something about the potions' teacher who taught in their days, but Al's dad would immediately censor it.

Al scratched his chin thoughtfully, feeling his facial muscles cramp in a grim frown. "Well, we won't have to worry about history of magic being boring, unless we figure out how to get rid of the ghost murderer." He hid the list of endangered ghosts back to his pocket. "In the meantime, let's warn the ghosts of the danger."

"A good idea," Rosie agreed. "Where do we start?"

"Moaning Myrtle. At least, he know where she haunts," Al decided.

He and Rosie headed to the first floor. There was an unexpected obstruction when the moving staircases refused cooperation. They kept changing every minute, turning wildly in all directions but the one Al wanted to go. Quite a big crowd of unhappy students gathered on the third floor landing, huffing and cursing. Finally, the eleven-year old investigators managed to get to a corridor where the haunted Girl's Lavatory was.

"I'll wait for you here," Al said and propped the wall, waiting Rosie to warn Myrtle. His cousin, however, wasn't going in; she kept glaring at him accusingly. Al lifted his hands defensively. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's a girl's lavatory. I'll get in trouble if anyone sees me walking in there."

"Suit yourself," Rosie scoffed and went inside, leaving the door open. She called, "Myrtle! We came to warn you! Myrtle?" She moaned from disappointment. "I don't think she's in . . . " Rosie paused midsentence and fell silent for a while. "Al, look!"

Al looked around, making sure no one was watching and slipped inside the lavatory. The floor was flooded, so he had to step in a huge puddle. He saw Rosie crouching in front of one of the cubicles. Al went to see what she was staring at.

There was a chunk of something incorporeal, swirling like a mist. When Al bent over to examine it from up close, he realized it was a ghost's foot, still in a shoe, severed. It flickered, became even less transparent and dissolved completely.

"She's a goner," Al whispered. "He must have gotten to her minutes ago."

Rosie looked up at him, a solemn, concerned expression painting on his face. She was nibbling her hair, a nervous tick she had developed when she was about three and never managed to get rid of it. "Al, I think we should tell the teachers."

"I've already told the headmistress, but she wouldn't do a thing." Al scowled, remembering the frustrating conversation with Vector. His frown deepened as Rosie stared at him meaningfully. "No, I know that look. I'm not giving this up to James."

"Al, he could help. All our cousins could lend us a hand too," Rosie reasoned. Suddenly, a loud, clattering sound caught her attention. "What's that?"

A bizarre apparition flew into the lavatory, howling from laughter. Unlike transparent and pearly white ghosts, it looked solid, like a little man. His orange eyes were wickedly slanted; his clothing outlandish, with a bell-covered hat atop his head and an orange bow tie. The entity floated below the ceiling, giggling. "Why, don't we have a wee, sweet couple in here," he said in a mocking voice and started to chant loudly, "They're going to kiss! They're going to kiss! Smooch!"

Rosie sighed in dismay and stood up. "It's Peeves, the poltergeist."

"The one your dad calls a floating git?" Al asked her.

Rosie was about to tell him something more, but Peeves chose this moment to throw an exploding cracker into a sink. The dangerous toy slipped down the pipes and exploded, shattering the sink and causing a fountain erupt from the pipes.

"Duck!" Rosie tried to shove Al aside, but they both got drenched anyway. She parted her heavy, wet hair so that she could see and glared at Peeves. Then, a movement to the right drew her gaze."Al, what's that?" She pointed her finger at the transparent, pale spectre emerging from the ceiling right above Peeves.

The poltergeist noticed the ghost as well and started mocking him, "What a shiny head you've got! Have you died of hair loss?" His chants got silenced when the apparition leapt at him, biting in his back and eating it out like a hungry shark feasts on a dead whale. "Argh!" Peeves screamed in pain, struggling to throw the ghost off his back, but got his throat torn to shreds. His orange eyes turned blank and glassy.

While the ghost was busy devouring its victim, Al grabbed Rosie's hand and dragged her out of the lavatory. His legs hurt a little, but he kept running until they reached a safe, densely populate area of the Great Hall. Students were gathering for dinner, some of the teachers were already sitting at their table.

Rosie, panting heavily and trying to catch a break, leaned back against a wall. "What just happened?" She shook her head in disbelief as though her mind struggled to rationalize what she had seen. "Did peeves just . . . "

Al nodded."Peeves just got eaten, yes." He was feeling surprisingly composed, given the circumstances.

"But a poltergeist isn't even a ghost!" Rosie exclaimed, making a group of third-year Ravenclaws turn their heads to look at her. She glared at them, scaring them off, and turned to her cousin. Rosie grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye seriously. "Al, this is bad, very bad. Probably, we don't even have the faintest idea how bad it is. If this is an adventure, I don't want it!"

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 **What did you think? Do you want more chapters? Please share your opinions in the comments (seriously, I'm waiting for the reviews like for Christmas).**


	8. Chapter 8: Black Bride

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Yay! Another chapter is here! Great thanks goes to the only two people who reviewed the last one. This update is happening only because of you guys.**

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Chapter 8: Black Bride

On a warm, Friday morning, Rosie and Al headed for their first class, history of magic in a classroom 72 on the third floor. When the young Potter swung by the portrait of Fat Lady, guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor Tower, he faced a very disgruntled Rosie.

"I can't believe it!" Rosie fumed. "I related every detail, I even suggested her to use Veritaserum on me, and what she said? 'You must be confused and sleepy, child.' I'm not confused! Well, maybe, I haven't gotten much rest lately, but who would if a dead maniac is on the rampage?" She groaned, venting her frustration. The night before, she tried to make the headmistress aware of Hogwarts' ghost problem, but it ended up predictably.

Al sighed, sympathizing with his cousin."I told you Vector won't listen to you. Come on, let's get some toast before the class."

There was a minor holdup in the Great Hall during the breakfast when the enchanted ceiling started to throw hail on the students, forcing them to take refuge under the tables. Ravenclaw's prefects tried to take control over the situation and threw some advanced spells, but they only made the things worse. The hail turned into sticky pudding. Fortunately, Professor Lovegood pacified the ceiling and, instead of pudding, it rained sweets. Al gathered as much as he could and joined Rosie on the third floor.

With their bags heavy from the wide range of magical candy, the skipped down the corridor with sheepish grins on their faces. A whole handful of Coffee Cracker Beans made Rosie seem less half-dead. The cheerful mood vanished, however, when they reached the classroom.

The chamber was quite spacious, with a high, vaulted ceiling and narrow windows, but the crowd inside was unusually large. The first year Gryffindors and Slytherins stood near the lectern, at a loss what they should do. The desks were occupied by a rowdy bunch of third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, feasting. They pulled the tables together and stacked them with snacks, mainly the free candy from the Great Hall. Throwing the wrappers everywhere, they chatted without a care in the world.

Rosie clenched her fists and fished out a familiar face out of the crowd. "James?" She stalked to the older of the Potter brothers who had, currently, his mouth filled with Bertie' Bott's Al Flavour Beans. Rosie grabbed him by his ear and hauled him to the side. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"We're just camping out, chilling," James explained and winced. He must have just eaten an especially foul bean, probably one tasting like a troll's feet.

Rosie rolled her eyes, giving him a condescending stare. "Shouldn't you be in class right now? If you need the urge to hang out somewhere during a break, go to a library or anywhere else. We're having a history of magic class in a moment, and I don't want it to be spoiled by you giggling right outside."

James swallowed all the beans he had stuffed in his cheeks and shrugged. "The thing is, Rosie, I'm supposed to be having my class right now. Well, it should be ending already. Anyway, we're making some self-study, because old, transparent Binns was a no-show for today's history of magic." James paused and scratched his chin thoughtfully, pondering. "Maybe he moved on, finally."

Al and Rosie exchanged unsettled glances.

"Is it normal for Professor Binns not to turn up for his own class?" Al asked discreetly.

James shook his head. "From what I know, he hasn't missed a class once in his life. Blasted pixies, not even his own death prevented him from knocking his students out with his boring lectures."

Al looked at Rosie sharply but she just threw up her hands. "I tried to warn him yesterday, but I couldn't find him," she defended herself.

Suddenly, one of the third year Gryffindors peeked outside the classroom and let out a terrified squeak. He turned to his friends and cried out, "Scram! Parkinson's coming this way and she looks really pissed!"

The bunch of third-years undertook a hasty evacuation. They swept the sweats from the desks to their bags, of course, leaving the wrappers behind. Then, they just fled the scene.

Before taking off at his top speed James called to his brother and cousin, "See you guys around!"

Equally panicked, the first-years started separating the joined desks, pulling the chairs in their places and gathering the abandoned wrappers from the floor. By the time Parkinson strutted into the classroom, the chamber was more or less clear, with the desks standing a bit crooked.

Parkinson stared at the lectern as though it was her personal enemy and hauled one of the desks from the front into a cozy corner. "Take your seats, useless brats," she barked to the students and nestled herself atop the desk, which was partially hidden behind the lectern. "It seems that Professor Binns is currently unavailable, but your class will go on. Unfortunately for me and you, the headmistress designated me as Professor Binns's replacement for this week. Now, does any of you, morons, know what are we supposed to cover today?" She craned her neck to stare at the students expectantly.

Naturally, Rosie's hand shot up. "The reforms of Darlock the Wise are the first position on the curriculum, professor," she informed.

Parkinson frowned, making her face look even more wrinkled and pug-like. "It sounds dismally boring and I don't have my special coffee on me right now. Let's pick up a little less dull." She reached toward a first-year's textbook which was resting atop the lectern. She opened it and started flipping through pages until she found something that caught her eye. "Oh, an army of zombies and tons of bloodshed! . . . A beautiful and powerful witch, betrayed by her lover, vows to plunge the world into eternal darkness . . . I can get behind this . . . " She smiled lightly; such expression rarely appeared on her face. In fact, Parkinson seemed to be in an oddly good mood today. "Alright. I'll guess I'll summarize it to you and then you'll do self-study."

Al prepared himself for the lesson. He propped his elbows on his textbook and clasped his hands together under his chin. Even if he fell asleep, he would still have his head up.

Parkinson made herself even more comfortable. She put her legs up, showing her shiny, probably new stilettos for all to see, and continued with the story of Black Bride, "So, in the Medieval Wales, there was this witch Wilhelmina. Apparently, she was pretty, and intelligent, and kind; just like me."

Al had to muffle an amused snort by pressing his hands to his mouth and nose. When he glanced at the class, half of the students were doing the same thing.

Parkinson didn't seem to notice, though. She was flipping through the textbook's pages, highlighting the essentials. "Oh, Wilhelmina was a Slytherin too, what a coincidence. Anyway, she fell in love with a wizard, who pretended to love her back. The day before their wedding, however, he showed his true colours and dumped her for some bloody bitch!" Parkinson raised her voice, her face twisted in a grimace of rage and scorn; she seemed to relate to Wilhemina's predicament quite a lot. Tears prickled her pale eyes, but she wiped them quickly, smearing her mascara. "There was never a wedding, no children, no cushy life in the ancestral mansion on a hill. Only despair and fire whiskey every night," she said in a voice of a person who's dead inside.

Rosie leaned over to Al and whispered, "Is she still talking about Wilhelmina?"

Parkinson slammed the thick history book against the wall, silencing the hushed conversations. A thick layer of dust separated from the unused blackboard and started floating away to cover a group of Gryffindor girls.

Professor Parkinson cleared her throat. "Anyway, Wilhelmina decided to take revenge on the man who betrayed her. She killed him and his entire family, but her rage wasn't quenched." There was a very unsettling glimmer in her eyes, as though she thought that Wilhelmina's deeds were a pretty good idea. "Then, she used her brilliant mind and vast knowledge to create a Death Stick!"

"It was actually called the Sceptre of the fallen," Rosie interjected before she could stop himself.

Parkinson froze and narrowed her eyes, glaring at Al's nerdy cousin. "I knew that! Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting," she exclaimed quickly and opened the textbook again. "Wilhelmina used dark, forbidden magic to raise the corpses of all who wronged her. She made them bend to her will by using the irresistible power of the sceptre. With her enemies like puppets in her hands, she conquered half of Wales until she died of liver failure." Parkinson looked at the ceiling and felt her side as though she was checking her body for some damage. "She should have gone easy on the fire whiskey."

Nancy Ethelston stirred on her seat and lifted her hand. "Does the Sceptre of the Fallen control the people like the Imperius Curse?" she asked curiously.

Parkinson traced her finger over the text until she found a specific passage. She nodded and said slowly, "Yes, but it works only on people who died already: ghosts, reanimated corpses and such. It wouldn't control the living."

"What happened to the sceptre after Wilhelmina's death?" asked Friedwulfa Palmer.

Parkinson hummed, her nose stuck in the textbook. "It says here all her stuff got inherited by her nephew, Baron Rowle. Most likely, it's been in the custody of Rowle family ever since." Professor laid the book on her lap and straightened her back. Her brows here knit together in a focused expression. "I feel like I'm forgetting something . . . " She surveyed the class carefully, looking for her usual victim. When she spotted Malfoy, hidden behind the large silhouette of Friedwulfa Palmer, she smirked triumphantly. "Ah, twenty points from Slytherin, Mr Malfoy," Parkinson said with utmost satisfaction and addressed the class. "Now, read up on the details. As your homework, you'll write a six-foot long essay on Wilhelmina's woes. Stop whining, brats!"

Until Parkinson dismissed the class, Al read about Wilhelmina the Black Bride. He discovered that she was much more evil and twisted than depicted in the substitute teacher's summary. At first, it was a bit interesting, but it became boring quickly. Fortunately, before Al managed to fall asleep, the class ended. He gathered his things and, together with Rosie, they headed to the exit.

In the meantime, Malfoy, clutching the textbook as though his life depended on it, fixed his frightened gaze on Parkinson. His legs were comically wobbly when he cautiously approached the teacher. He swallowed a bile in his throat and blocked Parkinson, preventing her from leaving the classroom. Al couldn't see the expression on Malfoy's face, for Scorpius had his back turned on him. He noticed, however, the horrifying grimace the professor had as she glared down at Malfoy.

Al sighed and shook his head. "What's Malfoy doing? He should know by now that Parkinson will only make his detention longer if she sees him."

"Maybe he has questions, about today's topic," Rosie suggested.

"Whatever, it's none of my business." Al shrugged his shoulders and left Malfoy to fall victim to Parkinson's rage again. Then, he flinched when he remembered something. "Teddy!" he gasped, turning to his red-headed cousin. "Rosie, I've got to run. I promised to visit Teddy today."

Rosie nodded, a pleased, dreamy smile drifting on her lips. Surely, she already pictured herself in Hogwarts' ancient and vast library, devouring knowledge. Before Al ran off, she stopped him and stared into his eyes solemnly. "Be careful, Al," she said. "Beware of that ghost."

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 **Review, please! Share your predictions, opinions and complaints. I'll do my best to get my lazy butt to writing more if you want to read more. ;-)**


	9. Chapter 9: Loss

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Have fun reading this chapter, guys. I offer my gratitude to the most awesome people who reviewed the last chapter. You're the best around!**

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Chapter 9: Loss

Al ran into his older brother on the staircase leading from the second floor to the third. He couldn't exactly spot him in the dense crowd of older students, but he heard James's characteristic, loud laughter. "James!" he cried out as loud as he could.

The older of the Potter brothers stopped abruptly, causing two second-year, Hufflepuff girls to crash into him, and climbed on his tippy toes. He craned his neck and grinned when he spotted Al. Waving to him, he pushed his way through the crowd. "Ready for the butterbeer at Teddy's, my Slytherin brother?" James exclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear.

Al glared at him, gritting his teeth so forcefully that his jaw started to cramp. "I can't wait," he grumbled.

As the both boys climbed up the stairs to the fourth floor, James pulled Al closer and told him quietly, "You know, mum mentioned in her recent letter that she hasn't heard from you since the term started." From over his glasses, he stared at his brother expectantly with his brown, inquisitive eyes.

Al picked up his face and looked away, pretending he was admiring the portraits of Walter Aragon and Elizabeth Burke. "It's probably I haven't written yet," he muttered grimly and stole a glance at James. "I guess I don't even have to. You must have snitched that I got sorted into Slytherin already."

James made a weird sound, something between a shocked gasp and a whistle. His hand landed on Al's shoulder and he dug his strong fingers into his robes, forcing his younger brother to look at him. "Who are you taking me for, Al? Just for your information, I haven't scribbled a word about that. I've rounded up all our cousins and made sure they wouldn't spill it either. This Slytherin thing . . . You should be the one to write to our parents first about it."

Al blinked, genuinely startled. Like a moron with a slack jaw, he gawked at James, at the eerily serious expression on his usually goofy face. Deep wisdom was the last thing he expected from his older brother. "James . . . I've never thought you could be so considerate of my feelings."

James's cheeks flushed in a split second, a trait he had inherited from the Weasley side of their family, and his nose turned scarlet. "Were you taking me for some jerk?" he coughed out, offended.

Al ignored his outburst and reached out to hug James. "Thanks, big brother. You're the best."

James and returned the hug, patting Al on his back continuously as though he wanted to turn his brother's lungs to jelly. "It's alright, Al. Now, let's not keep Teddy waiting for too long."

The Potter brothers walked down the fourth-floor corridor until it ended. Al wanted to take a wrong turn, heading straight for the West Tower, where the Owlery was. Fortunately, James knew the area, for the Gryffindor's dormitories were situated nearby and he had explored the surrounding part of the castle already. Teddy Lupin's office was in the converted Study Area.

James knocked on the door and, almost immediately, it opened, revealing an all too familiar face.

Teddy, with his trademark hair in the colour of bubble gum and torn, fashionable jeans, ushered the Potters inside. "Come on in, guys," he invited them with a roguish grin on his face and gestured at his office. "Sorry for the mess. I'm still trying to get rid of it, but I'm nowhere close to the end."

Al and James both gasped at the same time, taken aback by the incredibly awesome look of Teddy's quarters. The former Study Area was a large, tall chamber, with a huge fireplace on one wall. Bookcases and tables had been shoved under the walls, making more space in the middle of the spacious room. There, on the old, discoloured carpets, lay a wild assortment of magical items, ranging from antique furniture, through crests of jewellery and other riches to unidentified devices. Some of them were wrapped in white, silky fabric. Two huge piles of boxes occupied space on the opposite sides of the chamber, stacked up all the way to the ceiling.

"Cool stuff!" James exclaimed enthusiastically. "Teddy, where did you get all this?"

Teddy muffled a yawn and pointed his finger at the items spread on the chamber's floor. "Old Baroness Rowle died this summer and, in her will, she donated her vast collection of magical artefacts to Hogwarts. Professor Vector wanted me to catalogue them before putting them away in the store rooms. Already, I've found two sets of cursed cutlery and a self-exploding cushion." He crossed his arms on his chest and scowled a little. "Some of the items are usable, but most of them is too dangerous to leave where the students could get their hands on them."

Al craned his neck, gazing at the gold-filled chests with suspicion, and asked Teddy, "Where will they go, the hazardous artefacts?"

Young Lupin shrugged his shoulder. "I'm not sure yet. Professor Vector pinpointed several locations, but we'll go with the Chamber of Secrets, probably."

Al flinched at the mention of the name; he had heard all about his dad's adventure during his second year at Hogwarts. When he glanced at James, he saw him wincing too.

"Is it a good idea?" James questioned. "After all, it used to be a secret lair of evil, Slytherin wizards." He looked at Al and let out a sheepish giggle. "No offense, Al."

"None taken," Al muttered, rolling his eyes.

Teddy scratched his head, making his neon blue sticking out in all directions. "Well, Voldemort was the last descendant of Slytherin and only your dad can speak parseltongue. Unless Harry Potter turns evil, we're perfectly safe." He strolled to one of the antique cabinets and got three bottles of a brownish liquid from it. Without hurry, he poured it into decorative, mismatched silver goblets. "We have to fix the plumbing first, though. The basilisk made a bloody mess out of the pipes," he said and passed two of the goblets to the Potter brothers. "Here's your butterbeer"

"Thanks, Teddy!" James exclaimed, tearing his goblet out of Teddy's hand and gulping the contents down.

Al let himself taste the butterbeer. He took a small sip and frowned, feeling the attack of sweetness launched onto his taste buds. "This is really sweet, like marshmallows, a bar of chocolate and a ton of caramel syrup put together," he described. "I can feel my cavities developing."

Teddy laughed at the remark and waited until the boys finished their butterbeer. He propped his hands on his sides. "Are you feeling sufficiently sugar high? I plan to get you two to do some work tonight," he told them cheerfully as he pointed at the pile of inheritance after late Baroness Rowle. "Let's start with packing the stuff I managed to catalogue yesterday." When James tried to lay his hands on what looked like a cuckoo clock, Teddy slapped his palm and warned, "Don't touch anything; I don't want you to land in St Mungo's on intensive curse removal." He snatched a piece of parchment from a counter and tossed it to the younger Potter. "Al, grab the list. You'll be ticking off the items off it. James, you'll be in charge of moving the boxes. I'll do the actual packing." Teddy snapped his fingers, giving a hip twirl and pointed his finger at Al. "Al, hit it!"

"Err . . . " Al unrolled the scroll and traced his finger over the points on the list that had been crossed off already. "A set of pink, biting teacups," he read.

Teddy manoeuvred between some furniture and gathered porcelain vessels. When he was about to catch them, they changed their shade from pale, unthreatening pink to crimson red. A row of needle-like teeth grew out of the edges, and the six teacups went after Teddy, trying to bite his toes off. However, young Lupin cast a simple levitation spell on the aggressive items and kept them at bay.

James waved his wand at a medium-sized carton and exclaimed, "Accio box!" He caught the box as it flew toward him and tossed it to Teddy.

Young Lupin caught it aptly and swished his wand, tangling the struggling teacups into squealing bubble wrap, before he lowered them inside the box. One more spell and the carton, now sealed, sailed to join the pile in the corner of the chamber. "Done. Next one!" Teddy told Al.

"Sceptre of the Fallen . . . " Al read slowly, gawking at the parchment. He recognized the name from today's history of magic class. _Sceptre of the Fallen, just like in the story of the Black Bride!_ He looked up. "Teddy is this the one-"

"Controlling herds of resurrected people? Yes, it is," Teddy confirmed. "It's amazing how the Rowle family held onto it for centuries. By now, it must be worth a fortune and it would be catastrophic if it fell into the wrong hands." Confidently, he strode in between a large, oaken wardrobe and a suspicious sculpture of a grimacing angel. He stopped suddenly and gawked around with an expression of growing confusion painted on his face. "Where is it?"

James asked casually, "Have you misplaced it? It happens to my socks all the time."

Teddy shook his head decisively and pointed his finger at an empty spot on a discoloured carpet. "It was right here," he said "Before I left for the afternoon class I made sure it was here. I was looking at it. It was here, but, now, it isn't anymore."

Al stirred nervously, watching Teddy fidget and bite his fingernails. "Teddy, what are you saying?"

"He's saying someone nicked it, Al," James spoke up, dropping his happy-go-lucky attitude.

Teddy started pacing back and forth, then in circled around the wardrobe. He clasped his hands together behind his back and wiggled his fingers. "Professor Vector is going to kill me." "I've been working here for five days and I've already screwed up."

"It's pretty bad," James admitted. "If the headmistress doesn't hex the hell out of you, my mom will."

"James!" Al gave his older brother a warning, scolding look.

"What?" James shrugged his shoulders.

"You're making things worse." Al sighed heavily as James seemed to be oblivious to the fact that, thanks to him, Teddy started pacing quicker. Young Potter walked up to the cabinet where the butterbeers were being stashed and grabbed some to refill Lupin's goblet. "Teddy, have some butterbeer and try to calm down." Al handed him the beverage.

"Butterbear won't cut it. I need fire whiskey, gallons of it," Teddy mumbled, but gulped the butterbreer down anyway. He leaned against a comfortably looking armchair, but regretted the decision instantly when the piece of furniture tried to bite him. Teddy kicked it angrily and winced. "If Vector finds out about this, she'll fire my butt!"

Al bit his lower lip, thinking. "Maybe she won't. After all, it's not your fault someone stole the sceptre. You were doing exactly as Vector told you, weren't you?"

Teddy nodded, a bit puzzled and replied slowly, "Yes . . . "

Al smirked cunningly. "So, if anyone could be blamed for the sceptre's disappearance, it's the thief and Vector, for giving you wrong instructions."

James stared at him with his brown eyes bulging as though he just saw a prancing dementor. "Al, you're talking like a Slytherin already. It's creeping me out," he whispered, theatrically exaggerating the words, but Al ignored him; the Slytherin jokes were getting old.

Teddy took a deep breath and muttered his plan of action to himself, "Alright. I'm going to finish up packing the stuff and I'll go straight to Professor Vector. I'll tell her what happened and we'll conduct a search of the school." He nodded as if he had a hard time trying to convince himself that the idea won't get him fired. "Sounds reasonable."

Suddenly, James paled; his face turned white like a sheet. "A search, Teddy? Like, going through our stuff?" he stammered.

"Why, do you have something to hide, James?" Al chuckled, feeling weirdly delighted to see his perfect, older brother in distress.

James stared at him, gasping audibly. "You know I do!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking even more than usually. "I don't want the teachers to intercept my invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. My school life will be ruined without them!"

Al narrowed his eyes; his amused gaze morphed into a cold, scorned glare. "Wait, dad gave you the cloak _and_ the map?" he asked and felt even more pissed when James grinned unapologetically.

Sulking, Al folded his arms on his chest and stalked away. He circled around the huge, oaken wardrobe and passed through a glittering chandelier made of large, tear-shaped sapphires. He looked up, at a tall item in front of him, draped in a slightly stained, silky sheet. Curious what it could be, he approached it and, against Teddy's warnings, grabbed the fabric. "What's this?" he asked.

"Don't touch that!" Teddy cried out, but it was too late.

Al didn't yank the sheet, he just moved his wrist a little, involuntarily. An accident or not, the piece of fabric slid off the object, billowing like a sail in the wind. It glided straight at Al, so he had to duck and leap sideways to avoid being buried under it. When he managed to shake the hem of the sheet off his head, he looked up at the artefact he had just unveiled.

It was an ancient, ornate mirror, with clawed feet and a gold frame inscribed with the phrase "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." As Al stared into it, he saw his own reflection, but it was different somehow. He furrowed his brows, struggling to pinpoint what felt off, but couldn't.

Then, James walked into the frame, gawking at the mirror as well. He stopped right by Al's side and squinted his eyes. "Weird," he muttered. "I can see our reflection, but your robes have Gryffindor colours."

 _Gryffindor colours?_ Al let out a muffled gasp of realization and stared at his reflection again. It was exactly like James said – his robes had scarlet trim; his tie wasn't green and silver, but red and golden, like his brother's. _I'm a Gryffindor_ , Al thought and grinned happily, but his smile faded when his rational mind told him that it must be only an illusion.

Teddy popped behind the two Potters and pointed at the enchanted mirror. "It's the Mirror of Erised. It shows a person's greatest desire, so the things you're seeing aren't real," he explained.

"Figures." Al sighed morosely and eyed his reflection with disdain. The image seemed to mock him, to remind him of his failure and what a disappointment he turned out to be. Digging his fingernails in the inside of his hands, he tore his gaze away from the mirror and looked over his shoulder at young Lupin. "What do you see when you look in it, Teddy?"

Teddy didn't answer right away, seeming distant and forlorn. He fixed his gaze on the smooth surface of the mirror, wistfully staring at a reflection only he could see. "My parents, alive and smiling at me," he whispered and licked his dry lips. His eyes glistened oddly as though they were wet. "It's a shame I never got to meet them. What I would give for a chance to simply talk to them for five minutes."

"You miss them," Al stated the obvious.

Teddy ran his fingers through his hair, deep in thought. His messy locks changed its colour from blue to brightly pink. "I do. It's strange how it's possible to miss people I don't even remember." He kept staring at the Mirror of Erised, never making an eye contact with either Al or James. Clearly, he was very upset; it was a rarity to see Teddy so . . . so depressed. "You two should probably go. I need to gather my courage to visit the headmistress and tell her about the sceptre."

James glanced at Al, before addressing Teddy. "Are you sure you don't need our help? If you want, we could stay and-"

"Positive. I'll manage on my own," Teddy interrupted, speaking a bit stiffly. Then, he must have realized how dryly he came across and masked it with cheerful laughter. He ruffled Al's and James's black strands, giving them the same hairdo he had. "Go, spend some quality time together, as brothers. You should cherish your family."

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 **Don't be shy and let me know your opinions in the comments.**

 **Also, some serious will be going down in the next chapter. Brace yourselves!**


	10. Chapter 10: The Haunting

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Hello, my lovely readers! Sorry that it took me so long to write this chapter. I found a new, challenging job and I had very little time for my beloved hobby. Anyway, the chapter is finally here. Without a further ado, enjoy!**

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Chapter 10: The Haunting

On their way back from Teddy's office, the Potter brothers decided to take an alternative route via a narrow, spiral staircase near the Owlery. They tried using the main one, but the moving stairs were set in some completely unusable position and refused to budge. Red glow of the orange sun seeped through the window, blinding wizards and witches depicted on portraits that adorned the whole fourth floor corridor. Echo followed Al and James as they walked down a completely empty hall. The majority of the students should have been in the Great Hall, for the supper would be served shortly.

James stuffed his hands in his pockets and asked his brother casually, "So, any plans for tonight?"

"Yeah." Al sighed heavily, flinching at the recollection of his plans; they included devising a way to combat a ghostly serial killer. "I'll be stuck with Rosie in the library until midnight. We have some research to do."

"Sounds awfully boring," James said and flashed Al one of his brilliant, charming smiled that girls loved so much. "I'm having a game of quidditch with Louis, Fred, Roxie and some friends. We already nicked the balls and prepped the brooms."

Al gawked at his brother, believing the full extent of his foolishness. "But we're not allowed into the grounds!"

James laughed out loud and winked to Al. "I know. We're setting up a pitch in Gryffindor's common room. Some windows are bound to get smashed, but what's a Repairing Charm for, am I right?" Suddenly, he snapped his fingers as suspicious spark lit his brown eyes; he was up to no good. "You know what? I could sneak you into the common room under my invisibility cloak. How does that sound?"

"It sounds like a detention, James," Al muttered grimly. In his mind, he already pictures himself scrubbing cauldrons with Malfoy.

"Don't be a party pooper like Rosie. Come on!" James tried to convince him.

Then, an abrupt gust of cold air rushed by, engulfing Al and making him shiver. The temperature dropped and an unsettling feeling started to develop in his stomach. Alarmed, Al patted James's shoulder and asked him, "Do you feel it? It's became colder"

"A bit." James looked around, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. "Autumn is coming a little early this year. Or some moron cast a Freezing Spell."

Suddenly, frost covered the stained glass panes unnaturally fast and spread to the walls and ceiling. Al could see James's breath.

The younger of the Potter boys felt his knees wobble from panic, and his muscles cramp as though his body was preparing for a hasty flight. "James, we should go," he urged.

James shrugged off the creepy temperature drop and said to Al. "That's what I've been telling you all along. You need to cut a break and come to the Gryffindor Tower."

 _How can he be so daft?_ Al gritted his teeth and raised his voice to get through his brother's thick skull, "I'm not talking about your stupid quidditch stunt! Something's not right."

James fixed his stupid gaze somewhere behind Al and gawked curiously, slightly paring his lips. He raised his hand to greet someone, but knit his black eyebrows together in confusion. "I haven't seen this ghost before," he muttered in confusion and cried out cheerfully, "Hey, there!"

Before he turned around, Al felt a chilling sensation of pure dread spread through his body. He got goose bumps. Slowly, he followed James's gaze to see which ghost he was talking about. As soon as he spotted the bald head and a pair of red, glowing eyes set in the nose-less face, Al yelled out, "Run, James, run!" He gripped the sleeve of his brother's robe and started hauling him away, anywhere.

James, however, seemed not to grasp the direness of the situation at all. He refused to move, and his body was way heavier than Al's, thus difficult to budge against his will. His befuddled stare wandered between his younger brother and the ghost who floated only several feet from them.

Suddenly, before Al could get James to safety, the ghost rushed at them. His pearly white form dissolved into a blur of pale smoke until he rematerialized only one feet away. His malicious, snake-like eyes were fixed on Al as he plunged himself through the boy.

Al gasped, feeling a surge of chill and he staggered back, thrown by the force of impact. The ghost went clean through him, immaterial like the rest of the apparitions, but the boy could have sworn he felt something, as though the ghost was denser. Gasping for air, Al looked around, startled and panicked; his heart pounded so quickly that the blood, rushing to his head, made sounds like a waterfall. The ghost doubled away and, when his face was visible again, the boy saw him grimacing in rage. He flew up to the ceiling.

Then, equally unexpected like the first time, the phantom fell down, targeting the Potter brothers. Instinctively, the boys ran in opposite directions to confuse their attacker. Al ran as fast as his legs could carry him, convinced the ghost would go for him again; he was already bracing himself for impact of the unpleasant cold. When he looked over his shoulder, however, he realized he wasn't the one being aimed at.

The apparition dashed after James like a bludger chasing a quidditch player. Agile and experienced in dodging projectiles, Al's brother managed to duck a few times, only infuriating the ghost more. When he jumped high in the air, letting the phantom rush under his legs, the apparition let out an eerie hiss. It turned sharply, catching James off guard, and plunged into his chest. It never came out through his back, though.

Coughing and panting, James collapsed onto the stone floor face-first. His glasses flew off his nose and smashed into the wall. As he lay, his limbs were twitching uncontrollably as though he was having a seizure. Suddenly, he stilled.

Al felt cold sweat drip from his chin when the feeling of numbness overtook him. Why isn't he moving? Is he hurt? He heard himself let out shallow, ragged breaths as he rushed to his brother. "James! Are you okay? James!" Al knelt on the floor by James's side so abruptly that the pain in his kneecaps made him snap out of the daze. Quickly, he flipped his brother onto his back. There was a bruise on his forehead, and his nose looked red. His chest was raising, and it made Al sigh in relief. "Oh, thank goodness. You're fine."

James's eyelids lifted and he looked up, at Al. Without glasses, his eyesight was poor so he had to squint to discern his brother's face.

"I'm here, James. It's okay now," Al assured and leaned down to let his sibling see his face. Seeing his brother conscious, made the corners of his lips lift.

James smiled back, but it was a smirk Al had never seen before, an eerie, grimace of unadulterated malice. His usually playful, brown eyes went cold, detached. He licked his lips, chuckling darkly. "Harry Potter," he said as he sat up to stare at Al. His hand wandered toward the younger Potter's face and gripped his chin painfully. "You look like Harry Potter, boy."

Al slapped his hand away, feeling that there was something seriously wrong with his brother. "James, if this is one of your pranks, it's not funny,"

"Of, but it is funny," James laughed again. "For me." Suddenly, he whipped his wand and, pointing it straight at Albus's chest, he yelled out, "Avada Kedavra!"

Instinctively, Al ducked and watched a beam of green light brush the top of his head, grazing his hair. The spell missed him only barely and slammed into the wall behind him. Al gawked at his brother, his thoughts swirling in his mind wildly. What did just happen? The green light, the incantation . . . That was the Killing Curse. _James wanted to kill me! No . . . James would never do that, not even as some deranged prank . . ._ Al scrambled to his feet and staggered back until he hit his wall. With terror, he stared at his brother, feeling dryness in his throat.

"You're not James," he whispered with his green eyes fixed on the body of his older brother rise up from the floor and eying him with disdain. Al gulped as he came to the realization. "You're that ghost, in my brother's body."

James smirked ghoulishly. "Smart boy," he said in an odd voice that sounded like hissing of a snake. Again, he pointed the wand at Al."I need you die now, though. Avada-"

Al yelped and dashed sideways, narrowly escaping the Death Curse again. He didn't wait for the possessed James to land a clean hit on it; he took off at a speed of a flying broomstick. As he sprinted down the fourth-floor corridor toward a spiral staircase, he remembered what his dad once told him about avoiding the unfriendly hex fire. _Run in zigzags._ Al turned sharply, just in time to dodge another curse that flew past his shoulder.

"You won't escape me, Potter's son!" evil James yelled, annoyed as he pursued his victim.

Al made it to the tight and steep, spiral staircase. He climbed the stairs down so fast that his foot slipped on the chirped stone and he tumbled down, rolling. "Ouch!" he moaned when he hit the landing and slid into the corridor on the ground floor. His back and limbs hurt immensely, bruised and maybe sprained, but the adrenaline pumping through his veins dulled the pain. Quickly, he got back onto the feet and stared at the entrance to the staircase. He's coming, he thought, hearing hasty, determined footsteps.

Not waiting for James to catch up to him, sprinted off. His lungs burned and he was barely able to catch a breath, but a singular thought spurred him on _. I've got to escape him, I need to get help._ If only had he learned some handy spells . . .

Suddenly, while turning around the corner, Al crashed into someone. The force of impact made him knock that person off their feet, sending them to the ground. While falling he tried to grab onto something and clutched the bag, tearing it. Books fell out of the hole and scattered around.

Al's landing was cushioned by his victim. "Sorry," he mumbled and tried to scramble himself off and get back to his feet.

How surprised he was when he saw that he had just bumped into no one other than Rosie.

His cousin, bewildered, gawked at him. "Al!" Her attention shifted to her torn bag and the books laying everywhere, pages crumpled and covers ripped a little. She scowled and complained, "Look what you've-"

Al grabbed her wrist and yanked her up, nervously looking over his shoulder. "No time, we're running away from James," he informed her and, holding her hand, ushered her to run alongside him.

Rosie kept gawking at him, but, fortunately, kept up the pace. "Why?"

Al replied, "Because . . . "

"Avada Kedavra!" James's yell sounded right behind them. A beam of green light went through Rosie's bushy hair, miraculously missing her ear and temple.

"Because that," Al cried out, pointing his finger at James who chased them with a facial expression of a murderer coming after his victims; his eyes were focused solely on them, pure hatred reflecting in his brown irises. Al explained hurriedly, "He's been possessed by the serial killer ghost and he's trying to kill me."

"I've noticed that," Rosie gasped and tugged at Al's arm, hauling him behind a sculpture. A split second later, a flash of the green light slammed into the piece of art, blowing the head off it.

Al urged Rosie. "If you know some good spells, it's a good time to use it."

She nodded and clutched her wand tighter. "Diffindo!"

The spell flew toward James, but he dispersed it with a casual flicker of his wand.

Rosie licked her lips nervously and tried another one. "Incendio!"

This time, flames erupted from the tip of her wand and, roaring, headed toward James, but he yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

Suddenly, Rosie's wand flew out of her hand and landed three feet away, too far to reach. Stupefied, she gawked at the opponent; he was too strong for her to handle him.

"Here, take mine." Al shoved his own wand in her palm.

"This one is supposed to frighten ghosts," Rosie recited in panic, before she cried out, "Skurge!"

A flash of green shot out of Albus's wand and hit James, even though he tried to block it. He screamed in pain, recoiling until he slammed his back into a wall. His legs gave way and he collapsed, writhing and twisting while a pearly white aura emanated from his body. The pale glow shifted with James, separating from him. For a split second, Al saw the face of the red-eyed ghost pop out of his brother's head. _He's about to separate from James._

"It's working, Rosie. Keep it up," Al told her.

Then, James swished his wrist, mouthing a spell, and the wand in Rosie's hand exploded into tiny splinters. The white aura around Al's brother faded away and he sat up, with his face twisted by even greater rage.

Rosie gulped, staring at what was left of Al's wand, their last weapon. "We need to get out of here and fetch help," she whispered and glanced at the tall portal at the end of the corridor. "The teachers should be in the Great Hall. It's supper time."

Al nodded, agreeing with her. He was about to straighten his back, when he realized something. His hand shook a little when he squeezed his cousin's shoulder. "Rosie, go get the teachers. I'll keep him here," he said in a trembling voice.

Rosie shook her head. "Al, I can't leave you behind."

"If we lead him to the Great Hall, he'll start killing people. I need to keep him here," Al told her and smacked her on the back. "Go."

Rosie took a deep breath and said, "Don't die."

Al exchanged glances with her and popped from behind the statue, waving his arms wildly to get evil James's attention. "Hey! Baldy, over here!" When he saw his brother glare at him, he yelled to Rosie, "Zigzag!"

Simultaneously, Rosie and Al jumped from behind the sculpture. She dashed off in the direction of the Great Hall, dodging left and right just as she had been told. He ran across the corridor to take cover behind a lamp stand. A hex grazed the back of his robe and blew it off, leaving shreds to hang off his back. Suddenly, another curse made the lamp stand explode to pieces and another spell followed in a quick succession.

"Petrificus Totalus," James said quickly, before his victim had a chance to hide somewhere else.

Al felt his limbs rigidify and snap together. Unable to keep his balance, he fell over onto his back, slamming into the stone slabs hard. Stiff as a board, he tried to move, but he couldn't. Only his eyeballs could roll, looking in terror at James slowly strolling towards him. _I'm done for. He got me and he's going to kill me now. I'll die of my own brother's hand . . . It will break mum's heart._

Playing with his wand, James walked up to Albus and stared down, looking at him with such contempt that a muscle in his jaw was twitching. He leaned over him, relishing the fear he was inflicting and smirked even wider. "You're a fool, boy, a brave, self-sacrificing fool just like your father," James said with satisfaction and flicked his wand, lifting the Full Body-Bind.

Al gasped as the numbness left his body and he could move again. However, he never had the time to make a move to defend himself or flee, for James yelled out another curse right away.

"Crucio!"

It was as though a thousand blades pierced Al's body, a pain like he had never felt before. It consumed him like a wild fire, engulfing him so completely that he felt drowning in it. He got stripped of all sense of self, found himself incapable of forming a single thought. There was only the pain, burning him, dragging him into the abyss of suffering. He heard himself scream, and his anguished cries melted with James's howling laughter. Al bit his tongue so hard that he felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

"James," he uttered, forcing the word out of his throat.

"Your brother won't help you, young Potter," the monster in James's body mocked him and inflicted another dose of pain. "Crucio."

Al wreathed from the unimaginable aching, half-conscious, but his eyes were fixed on his brother's face. "James, I know you're still in here," he breathed out. "You need to fight him! Take your body back. You're a Gryffindor, for crying out loud!"

The cruel cackle of possessed James ceased for a moment when his eyes bulged. He stumbled, gripping his head and twisting his face in a grimace of struggle and effort. "Stop it!" he hissed and turned his vicious glare back at Al. With his eyes bulging, he cried out, "Avada Keda-"

"Stupefy!"

Suddenly, Al saw multiple flashes whizz through the air, over his head. An onslaught of stunning spells hit James, sweeping him off his feet and knocking him out. Wincing from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, Al propped himself on his elbows and gawked at his brother who lay still on the floor next to him. Then, he looked toward the Great Hall and saw a group of teachers jog to him, with Rosie trailing in the rear. They had their wands pointed at James.

Neville overtook his colleagues and got to Al first. "Albus, are you okay?" He knelt by his godson's side and surveyed him for injuries.

Al nodded hastily and gestured toward his unconscious brother. "James, he's-"

Vector collected James's wand from his still hand. "Possessed by evil spirit, we know. Miss Granger-Weasley told us," she said and stepped back. The headmistress turned to the other teachers. "On my mark," she exclaimed, preparing her wand to cast a spell. "Now!"

"Skurge!" a choir of voices exclaimed in unison, and the charms struck James at the same time with great power.

His body rose several inches over the floor and started thrashing violently. His eyelids lifted, and his eyes rolled back. As his lips parted, white foam leaked onto his chin and cheeks. The white, ghostly aura engulfed him, intensifying when the evil spirit started to separate from his host.

Al backpedalled, seeing a silhouette rise from James's body and drift up. Suddenly, the older Potter slammed back into the floor. The spectre began to swirl like a smoke moved by a gust of wind. Gradually, it took the form of the red-eyed apparition that has a nose missing. Upon being expelled from James's body and exposed before the Hogwarts' staff, he hissed indignantly.

Instantly, all teachers took a step back. They fixed their shocked gazes on the ghost, their faces pale, their hands shivering as they were gripping their wands. Al could have sword he heard Professor Parkinson let out a strangled sob and hide behind Professor Lovegood.

"It can't be," Neville whispered in a hoarse voice.

The ghost hissed at the gathered staff once more and began to spin and dissolve. His form reduced to a pillar of a white, smoke-like silhouette. He blurred and dashed up, escaping through the ceiling.

Even after his escape, the teachers didn't seem to snap out of the shock the ghost had inflicted on them. Al gawked at them, wondering what possibly could make six adult, highly trained wizards be so shaken and distraught. All of them looked as though they had faced a boggart just now.

Professor Vector took a deep, calming breath and turned to the rest of the staff. She hid her hands in her wide sleeved to hide the fact that they were shaking. "I need you to be on high alert," the headmistress told the teachers. She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Hogwarts is haunted by Lord Voldemort."

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 **How did you like the chapter? Give me a Christmas gift and comment, please. ;-)**

 **I might have a gift for you as well. . . Who knows. . . [cackle, cackle]**


	11. Chapter 11: Family Visit

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

 **Hi, my muffins! As I vaguely promised, here's your Christmas gift, an extra chapter. Go ahead and unpack it!**

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Chapter 11: Family Visit

Following the incident of James's possession by Voldemort's ghost, panic erupted in Hogwarts. The teachers ushered all the students into the Great Hall and held them there for goodness knows how long. Al caught a glimpse of heavy door shutting on the confused, uninformed children and teenagers while Professor Vector was shouting orders.

The Potters and Rosie got rushed into the Hospital Wing and tucked into beds. While Hannah tended to their injuries, Neville kept a close watch on the patients, nervously glancing at the darker corners of the spacious chamber. Hagrid guarded the entrance to the infirmary, sitting on a three-legged stool that was much too small for his enormous body.

Busy with dodging Hannah's attempts to pour more foul-tasting potions down his throat, Al leaned sideways and nearly rolled off the bed. The nurse took advantage of his predicament and forced him to gulp down half a bottle of an especially awful medicine; it tasted like a troll's vomit. Wincing and coughing, he threw himself on the pillows and fixed his tired gaze on the ceiling. Then, he heard footsteps echoing across the corridor outside and sat up abruptly.

"How are they?" a familiar, male voice asked Hagrid.

The elderly Keeper of the Keys sighed morosely. "Not bad, 'Arry," he whispered loud enough for Al to hear. "But your son got hit by a Cruciatus pretty hard."

A woman's distress yelped sounded and got muffled. Then, she ran inside the Hospital Wing, her long, red hair flying around her head. She cried out, "James! Albus!"

Awoken by the scream, James moaned and opened his eyes. He stared at the woman, squinting his eyes; he didn't have his glasses on. "Mum? What are you doing here?"

Ginny Potter, James's and Al's mother, ran up to her boys and immediately smothered them with her forceful hugs. Distressed, but also relieved, she wouldn't stop sobbing and laughing. "Oh, thank goodness you made out alive," she whispered, squeezing James's ribs so hard that his face turned purple.

"You're crushing me, mum," he coughed out and groaned in protest when he got showered in kisses as though he was a small child.

Al smiled lightly once he received his dose of kisses and hugs. When his mum was busy fussing over James's well being, he looked up, at his dad.

Harry Potter walked up to Al's bed and sat on its edge. He leaned forward and gently ruffled Al's hair like he always did to brighten his son's mood. "Hey, buddy," he greeted Al quietly. "Professor Vector flooed us at once and told us everything." Biting his lower lip, he looked at Al with deep concern and, what was far worse, with sorrow. "Albus, how are you feeling?"

Al shrugged and forced a smile onto his lips. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, young man!" Hannah Longbotton exclaimed from quite a considerable distance. Was _she using Extendable Ears?_ She stalked up to Al, fluffed his pillow and forced him to lay down. "Bruises, scratches, two fractured bones and a sprained ankle . . . Not to mention the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. You're staying in bed for the weekend, Albus."

"I feel alright now, though." Al tried to sit up, but Hannah slapped her hand on his forehead and pushed him back down.

As if to make sure he wouldn't play tough again, she flickered her wand, whispering a spell. Al's covers sprang to life and wrapped tightly around him, rendering his limbs immobile and trapping him in bed. It felt a lot like the Full Body-Bind.

Al's dad opened his mouth to say something to him, but the sound of quick footsteps distracted him. "It's Ron," he figured out.

He wasn't wrong. Uncle Ron stormed into the Hospital Wing looking like a maniac, with his eyes bulging from panic and red hair in disarray. "Rosie!" he shrieked and sprinted toward her daughter, breaking some records along the way.

Rosie gulped, her freckled face turning pallid. "Oh no," she whispered in terror and pulled the bedcovers up to her eyes.

Uncle Ron was even worse than Al's mum. Panting and freaking out, he clasped his hands on his daughter's cheeks. "Rosie, darling!" he exclaimed dramatically and checked her for wounds. She didn't have even a single bruise, but that didn't stop him from fussing over her health. "Don't push yourself, you need to rest," he ushered her.

"Dad, calm down. I'm didn't even got injured." Rosie rolled her eyes and tried to shoo him away. "James and Al were in the centre of action."

Uncle Ron looked at Al and the boy shrugged his shoulders.

He remembered the face off with evil James and he wasn't the one flinging one spell after another. "Give yourself more credit, Rosie," Al said, staring at her with genuine and well-deserved admiration. "You duelled like an auror."

Uncle Ron let out a sound that was a mix of a stifled gasp and a depressed whine. Covering his mouth with his hand, he shook his head grimly. "Harry, our children are following our footsteps," he said dramatically, his words coming off as a mumble. Then, he wrapped Rosie in the bedcovers, making her look like a sulking mummy. "It's far too dangerous for my little girl to be involved in battling evil."

"It's not like we looked for trouble," Rosie protested.

Uncle Ron arched one of his eyebrows. "I, your mother and Harry weren't looking for it either. And how it ended? In a battle, that's how!"

Rosie sighed, staring somewhere at the ceiling. "I promise not to get involved in any battles, dad."

The arrival of Teddy interrupted the family reunion. Young teacher peeked inside the Hospital Wing and beckoned. "Harry, Ron." When he saw Al's mum, a happy grin flourished on his face and the ends of his hair turned red. "Hi Ginny!" He ran his fingers through his dishevelled strands and addressed the adults, "Professor Vector needs all help she can get with searching the castle. Your skills could be useful if we stumble on Voldemort's ghost."

Especially Al's mom seemed to be very hesitant to leave her boys' side, so Neville stepped up. "Go, guys. Hannah and I will take care of your kids," he assured.

James, still a bit dazed from being hit by several Stunning Spells, casually patted mum on her shoulder. He looked tired, but the grin he gave her was roguish like usually. "Mum, we won't go anywhere. Al is basically tied up by his bedcovers."

"I am." Al confirmed and managed to free one of his arms after several minutes of struggle.

Ginny Potter shook her head with a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Rest, my angels," she murmured, placing loud smooches on her sons' foreheads. Getting up, she said. "Al, I'm so proud of you. Also, congratulations on making it to Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" Al gulped, confused and with a very bad hunch developing in his gut.

His mum nodded cheerfully; she looked extremely pleased. "I knew you would get sorted in my and your dad's house. Your grandparents were so over the moon when I've told them." She giggled like a little girl and shared, "I boasted to everyone in the family!"

Stupefied, Al watched her leave, together with dad and Uncle Ron. When they were gone and Neville followed Hannah to the Nurse's Office, he turned to glare at the occupant of the neighbouring bed. "James," he hissed through clenched teeth. "How come mum thinks I'm in Gryffindor?"

James gulped, refusing to make an eye contact with his brother. Nervously, he wriggled his fingers. "Well . . . I may have given her some information that wasn't completely accurate," he said hesitantly, stealing uneasy glances at his younger brother. James winced when he saw how ferociously Al was glaring at him and exclaimed defensively, "Don't give me that look! What was I supposed to do? You wouldn't write to our parents, so mum kept asking me in her letter about your sorting. I panicked!"

Al took a deep calming breath. _It's a disaster_ , he thought. "What exactly did you write about me in your letters?"

"Err . . . " James stalled, before forming a cautious reply. "I may or may not have vividly described the evening chess games in Gryffindor's common room. Some pranks I supposedly played on you while you were sleeping."

Al's eyebrow was twitching. "Did our cousins . . . "

"They were on it too," James confirmed. "We had to get our stories to match, after all."

Groaning, Al threw himself back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling in dismay. _Getting sorted into Slytherin was horrible enough. The prospect of telling my parents about it was frightening, but this . . . Well, James always had a knack of messing my life up_. Al propped on his elbows. "Thanks to you, our parents are convinced I'm an exemplary Gryffindor," he stated the fact grimly. "When they find out I'm in Slytherin, they'll be double disappointed and additionally angry for deceiving them."

"How about you don't tell them just yet?" James suggested. "You can wait for a convenient moment."

Al knit his eyebrows together, too fed up with is brother's antics to glare at him."Do you really think I could keep me being in Slytherin a secret?" he asked. "Neville will spill the beans, or Teddy, or any of the teachers."

James let out a disappointed sigh. "I didn't take it into consideration," he muttered and leaned back. For a while he remained silent until he spoke up in an uncommonly timid voice, "Al, are you cross with me?"

"What?" Al looked at him, startled by the sudden question.

James glanced at his brother, but couldn't uphold the eye contact, so he fixed his gaze on the candle on the nightstand. Fidgeting, he licked his lips and whispered, "Because I got possessed and . . . " He trailed off. "I remember all of it, Al. My body would move and my mouth would say all those horrible things, but I couldn't do anything. I tried fighting, I really did my best . . . "

"You succeeded," Al interrupted him firmly. "In the end, you managed to fight him off."

"But not before . . . " James shuddered and hid his face in his hands. "Not before I made you suffer. Dear Merlin, I was attempting to kill you and Rosie." A sob shook his body, and Al realized his older brother was crying. It was the first time since, like, six years.

"James!" Al reached out to his brother and grabbed his forearm, squeezing it reassuringly. He reminded, "It's not your fault. Voldemort's ghost was the one responsible, not you."

"I'm not so sure," James uttered between sobs. He stared at his younger brother helplessly, like a forlorn child.

"What do you mean?" Al inquired gently.

James pulled his knees to his chest and started rocking back at forth. From over his knees, he glanced at Al. "I saw Voldemort's ghost go clean through you. He didn't possess you, though. I was the one who got under his control so easily." He sighed wistfully and rested his chin on his bony knees. "Am I weak?"

Albus didn't reply, shocked to see his brother so vulnerable. James was always the confident one, first to both make some mischief and stand up for those who couldn't protect themselves. Yet, there he was, sniffling on the bed in the Hospital Wing and second guessing his worth.

James wiped his tears in the bedcovers and said to his younger sibling, "Al, you were pretty badass there, in the ground floor corridor. You should have gotten sorted into Gryffindor." He gave Al a smile that made the young Slytherin feel a bit better.

"Really?" Al grinned back, pleasantly tickled by the praise, but his happiness died down as quickly as it ignited. _Even if I behave like a Gryffindor, I won't become one. The Sorting Hat's decision is final._ He hoped James won't notice his fake smile. He reached under his pillow for sweets that Neville had passed him a while ago and offered them to his older brother. "A chocolate frog?"

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 **Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!**

 **I hope to continue writing the fanfic, even though the updates are coming painfully slowly. Every time I'm musing whether to continue this story, I think of you guys and a new chapter eventually comes.**

 **Don't be shy and leave a review. Also, stay tuned for the first chapter in the New Year.**


	12. Chapter 12: Enemy Within

Disclaimer: The characters and the world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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 **Welcome to the first chapter in the year 2017. I really hope I'll be able to write more this year and keep the updates coming. Now, enjoy the chapter!**

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Chapter 12: Enemy Within

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On a sunny Sunday morning, James, Rosie and Al were still stuck in the Hospital Wing, bored to the brink of madness. The chirping of the birds outside the windows was being interrupted by the deafeningly loud, rhythmical sound of Hagid snoring as he napped on his stool. Rosie had managed to intercept several books on healing from Hannah and expanded her knowledge while the boys played wizarding chess.

James smirked slyly, staring at the board. "Queen to E4," he commanded and the queen marched toward Al's king and brutally smashed his head off, much to James's amusement. He chuckled gleefully . "Oh, Al, you totally suck at chess!"

Al gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. "Next time, I'll beat you."

"You've been saying that for the last nine games, little brother. Accept my victory!" James's triumphant laughter got louder and obnoxious, earning him a glare from Hannah. He turned to talk to his cousin. "Rosie, do you have any candy left? I already ate mine and Al's."

Rosie lowered her book and stared at him with indignation. "You're such a glutton, James. No wonder you got possessed by the ghost; you have no self-control." She gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth when she realized what she just said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!" she apologized to James.

Then, passing by snoring Hagrid, Harry Potter entered the Hospital Wing. His navy blue robes billowed after him, and the pointy hat was crooked on his head.

Both Potter boys exclaimed simultaneously, "Dad!"

Al shifted on his bed, anxious to hear the news. Since the appearance of the ghost of Voldemort, Hogwarts had been flooded with aurors, led by Harry Potter. The department had pulled all the available wizards they could; even Aunt Hermione flooed in. Al was curious whether they made a significant discovery. "Have you found the ghost?"

His dad readjusted his glasses and bit his lower lip like he frequently did when something was wrong. "We're almost done with the search, but he vanished into thin air," he said.

"Did he flee the castle to haunt some other place?" James asked.

Their dad hesitated with the answer. Eventually, he shook his head and told them, "Not necessarily. He might have hid somewhere. Hogwarts is a big place; it might take a while to check every corner." Seeing the looks of distress and tension on his sons' faces, he smiled and gave them hefty pats on their shoulders. "Don't worry, though. We'll hunt Voldemort's ghost down and get rid of him for good. There's nothing to fear."

Al eyed his dad doubtfully. He was pretty sure that if the phantom of the dark wizard possessed a person once, he could do it again. The mere thought of the nose-less apparition lurking about made his stomach twist and growl. Or it was hunger; James ate his breakfast when Al wasn't looking.

A flash of red caught Al's attention. It was Uncle Ron popping by. "Harry, Ginny wants just flooed and told me to tell you to hurry up. Lily misses you," he informed and ran to say his sappy goodbyes to Rosie. His daughter twisted and fussed in his embrace, but he wouldn't spare her the onslaught of hugs and kisses. Sometimes, Al wondered if Uncle Ron was aware that his daughter was eleven, not three.

"Let's go, Ron," Harry Potter said, before hugging his sons. "Steer clear of trouble, boys. I'll see you at Christmas, okay?"

James and Al flashed him twin, angelic smiles and waved to him. "Bye, dad!"

Together with Rosie, they watched their fathers leave. It was kind of nice to see their parents in the trying time, but all the smothering with love wore them out. The Potter brothers were holding up somehow, but Rosie was at her wit's end. Her dad had even cut meat and potatoes in small pieces for her so that she wouldn't have to exert herself.

Hannah Longbottom strolled from her love lair in the Nurse's Office, grinning happily. Al guessed that there must have been some connection with Neville staying here overnight and weird noises coming from the office. Keeping something behind her back, she made a beeline for her patients' beds. "How are you feeling, Potters?"

Al patted his growling belly. "Peckish."

"I've got some good news for you, then. You're free to go and catch supper in the Great Hall," Hannah said and threw three piles of crumpled clothes onto the kids' beds. "Your clothes straight from the laundry."

James stretched his arms and squealed in delight."Yes, finally! All the resting and sleeping made me feel tired. Does it make any sense?"

"None whatsoever," Al replied with a smile. He too was glad to be finally out of the Hospital Wing. It was better than sleeping with a bunch of grumpy Slytherins in a damp, windowless dungeon, but the constant of surveillance the teachers and Hannah got on his nerves.

Behind the screens, the three patients changed into their regular clothes. Al noticed that his trousers and t-shirt smelled fresh and nice, but they were horribly crumpled. They looked almost as though someone had dumped them onto the floor and rolled around over them.

Cheerfully, Al set off with James and Rosie by his side. He was a bit disgruntled, though, for Hannah treaded behind them like a persistent spectre. With her hand drawn, she watched her surroundings vigilantly. Al sighed and asked her, "Why are you following us?"

"Because Neville will divorce me if I leave you unprotected for even a minute," she rebutted, stopping the trio so that she could check out if the corridor behind a corner was secure. "The teachers aren't quite done ghost-proofing the castle yet, so we need to be careful."

On their way from the Hospital Wing, Al noticed that they hadn't passed by a single person. It was Sunday, a day free from classes. Students should loiter around, wandering packs and play pranks on each other. As soon as they reached the Great Hall, Al realized where everyone was.

A group of seventh-year Ravenclaws stood in front of the huge door, huffing and complain. Al spotted Victoire, gesturing wildly as she was telling her friend some story. The Ravenclaws were gathered in an unruly like, waiting to crawl through a device that looked like a cardboard box. Every time a student got on their fours to crawl through it into the Great Hall, a green sparks came out, showering an unsuspecting victim, and a Christmas song started to play.

"Why there's a line in front of the Great Hall?" Al asked Hannah and pointed at the cardboard device of Christmas merriment. "And what's with that weird, glowing box?"

"It's a Phantom Detector," Hannah explained. "You're supposed to crawl through it and, if it detects a ghost possessing your body, it will beep and glow red."

Al stared at Victoire getting on all fours and muttering curses as she crawled through the Phantom Detector; it glowed green. He ran his fingers through his uncombed, black hair _. Dad told us that Voldemort's ghost might be in hiding. If it possible for it to hide inside a person?_ Glancing at James, he inquired, "Vector suspects the ghost possessed someone else, doesn't she?"

"It is possible," Hannah admitted reluctantly. When the Ravenclaws cleared the Phantom Detector, she pushed Al, James and Rosie toward the device, nearly shoving them through it. "Go!"

The Hogwarts' janitor, a quiet man who had been unnoticed by Al until now, called in a gruff voice, "Next!" With his strong, calloused hands, he dragged Al through the detector, which covered him in stinging, green sparks, and pushed him away. "Clear!"

Once he passed the test, Al got intercepted by Professor Wendell, the male-looking which who taught transfiguration. "Go sit by your house's table," she ordered him quickly and prepared to catch Rosie.

Al waddled over to the Slytherin table and took his usual place, with the other first-years and the prefects. Barely his buttocks connected to the wooden bench, he found himself surrounded by his housemates. They circled him like a bunch of hungry sharks swim around a gravely wounded whale.

Grace Baxter leaned across the table, eying Al in a somewhat intimidating fashion. It was a surprise to see her looking so fierce and intense. "Potter!" she exclaimed. "What's going on here? Last night, Professor Parkinson drove us from our dormitories to sleep on the floor in the Great Hall. With Gryffindors!" Over Al's head, she glared at the house of red and gold with malice.

"Really?" Al gulped and tried to diffuse the uncomfortable tension with a sheepish smile; it didn't work. The Slytherins kept staring at him. _Come to think of it, they all have dark bags under their eyes and smell not quite fresh. Not to mention that they all look like minions of hell, with the way they're glaring at me._

Nancy Ethelston took a hold of his shoulder and started shaking Al. "Look, we know that you know what's going on here. Tell us!" she insistent.

"You're mistaken . . . " Al tried, but Quin Travers cut him off.

"We're not idiots, Potter." He barked through clenched teeth. "First, you land in the Hospital Wing for some mysterious reason and no one is allowed to even visit you . . ."

Al blinked, startled. "You wanted to visit me?"

Quin ignored him. "The next thing we know, is all teachers flipping and rounding all the students up here. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws got their dormitories and common rooms searched last night. They said, the teachers went even through their underwear and ripped the mattresses open."

Grace took it from there. She shoved Quin aside and glared at Al over her purple-rimmed, hipster glasses. "And, as we speak, they're searching through my underwear too! I have so many regrets . . . " She let out a moan of ultimate anguish. "What possessed me to buy undies with my name on them?"

Barnaby Selwyn tugged Al his way, demanding, "What made the teachers panic?"

"Did someone try to kidnap you?" one of the older Slytherins inquired and offered, "If so, I know some horrible curses, my dad taught me."

"Do we have another monster on the loose?" Friedwulfa Palmer asked in a terrified voice and shrieked at the thought.

 _Someone save me_ , Al prayed in his mind. Strangely enough, his desperate pleas got answered when the door to the Great Hall flew open. Immediately, heavy storm clouds gathered under the enchanted ceiling and a lightning illuminated the grand chamber.

Professor Vector, looking particularly ticked off, stomped inside, heading straight for the Slytherin table. Flanking her and struggling to keep up with her, were Teddy Lupin and Professor Parkinson. Both looked pale and unnerved.

"Slytherins!" Vector yelled, petrifying them with her stern glare as though she was a basilisk. "We need to talk." She lifted some object, she was holding in her hand.

It looked like a club or a bat used in a muggle game called baseball. Made out of old, chirped wood and simple in design, it looked very much like trash beached after a strong sea storm.

"Does any of you know what this is?" Vector demanded as she waved the bat in front of the eyes of some random fourth-year Slytherin girls. No one asked her, and Al wondered what was the whole commotion about. The headmistress began to stroll along their table. "No? It's an insanely dangerous and ancient artefact which was stolen from Professor's Lupin's office."

Al flinched, glancing at Teddy's pale face and the look of fright painting on it. Then, he shifted his gaze back to the ancient bat. _It's the Sceptre of the Fallen_ , he realized. _Thank goodness, someone found it. Voldemort's ghost haunting Hogwarts is enough trouble without a dangerous artefact falling into wrong hands._

Vector didn't appear to be relieved, though. Her furious glare slid over each of the Slytherin students. "You might be wondering why this artefact is of any concern to you. I will tell you. While searching Slytherin's common room, I found it, hidden in the wall. One of you broke into Professor Lupin's office and stole it. I don't have to remind you that theft is unbecoming of a Hogwarts student and will be severely punished."

"We'll expel your butt!" Professor Parkinson yelled out of the blue. When Vector gave her a warning look, she backed away like a scolded student and mumbled, "I'm terribly sorry"

Vector turned her attention back to the Slytherins. "As I was saying, stealing a dark, dangerous object is no light transgression. I will investigate this matter further and, eventually, I'll find the perpetrator. I want him or her to know that." Her piercing stare slowly travelled over each and one of the Slytherins gathered by the table. "Until the thief is discovered, all Slytherin students are to participate in cleaning the castle under the supervision of Hogwarts' janitor, Mr Smith. He'll make sure you'll polish Hogwarts squeaky clean."

At the table, Friedwulfa Palmer hid her face in her hands and sobbed, "I don't want to do the work of House Elves. It's not my fault someone nicked that ugly thing."

Vector weighted the Sceptre of Fallen in her hand and announced, "That is all. You are to stay in Slytherin's dormitories for the reminder of Sunday."

A collective, disgruntled gasp spread among the Slytherins, followed by hushed, yet animated whispers. Students exchanged furious glances; some of the girls even started to cry like Friedwulfa. What made everyone feel even worse, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were giggling, clearly on cloud nine because of Slytherin's misery.

Barnaby Selwyn scowled, glaring at Vector's back. "A house arrest? This week is getting better," he growled, his words drenched in sarcasm.

Al didn't pay any attention to his house mates. Instead, he observed the teachers curiously.

Teddy reached out to relieve Vector of the Sceptre of the Fallen. "Professor Vector, I'll take care of the sceptre right away," he promised and grabbed the artefact, but the headmistress jerked it out of his hold.

"I don't think so, Professor Lupin," she said coldly as she gave him that stern, intimidating look that made everyone feel inferior. "You had it in your custody once, and you let a student steal it from you. I believe, it will be more secure in my possession."

Teddy's hair changed from the safe, brown colour to a dull, lifeless grey, reflecting his mood. He gawked at Vector with his mouth open and the expression in his eyes of a lost, beaten puppy. "I'll set up some protective spells," Teddy pleaded, but Vector was unbent.

"My decision is final, Professor Lupin." She pressed the sceptre to her chest protectively and whirled on her heel. "If you lose another artefact, you may pack your bags," Vector said before storming off.

Teddy, ran his shaking fingers through his mousy hair and nervously bit the inside of his cheek. He sighed deeply, looking as if he was on the brink of breaking into tears. Distraught, he walked away, stumbling into the Hufflepuff table along his way.

Al felt his heart clench as he stared at Teddy. The way Vector treated him was appalling. _He didn't deserve it! Clearly, the thief is the only one to blame and Teddy made an honest mistake. Besides, no harm was done._

"Alright, brats." Albus's inner monologue got interrupted by Professor Parkinson who shrieked at her students with a sadistic grin plastered across her pug-like face. "Butts up! You're going back to Slytherin's dormitories. Now, it's time for me to have a little friendly chat with you."

Of course "a friendly chat" was Parkinson's code name for yelling at them. Basically, once in Slytherin's common room, she shouted at them until her throat went sore and she left them to fix herself some potion to remedy that. Quite quickly, Al started to miss the boring time spend at the Hospital Wing with James and Rosie.

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 **I'd love to thank all the people who review for support. You guys are the reason I keep writing more chapters. You're amazing, and I wish I could hug you!**


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